Of gold and destinies
by TheWhispersWhichFlowGrey
Summary: King and servant. Soldier and Warlock. Figures of legend, untouchable and invincible, their names and stories carrying out through the ages. Yet while time remembers the What, it forgets the How. What happened behind the glamor of the myth? This is their story. This is how it happened. On HIATUS.
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Merlin. I own the OC's and the story. **

**Hello everyone. I am back:) **

**As I promised I would, I have started a sequel for "To forget the future". However, this can be read separately because it's a story in and of its own. I can't say it's independent of "To forget the future", because it isn't-not entirely. It_ is_ linked with that story, but the connection isn't that big and it's definitely not that vital to the plot. The only thing it does is that it explains certain small things and certain changes in the relationships between some characters(namely Merlin and Mordred). But it can stand on its own all right. If anyone is confused later on though, all you need to do is ask: I'll PM you and explain everything that happened in "To forget the future" and why and how it's connected and... yeah, you get the point:D  
**

**Sooo... I'm really excited about this story, because it has a different structure than my other stories and I'm nervous to see if it will work out alright. Reeeally hope it will:D **

**Okay, enough rambling. Let's get started, shall we? **

**Enjoy! **

* * *

_Now_

* * *

The torch blew shadows on the stone walls as he briskly descended the circular stairs. The fire hissed in his ear quietly as the shadows danced, swaying furiously as he hurried down and down, his footsteps ringing in the darkness that lay ahead of him and swallowed the light in his wake. A couple of raven locks fell into his eyes, and the thought that he should shorten them briefly, very briefly, crossed his mind. He remembered Gaius may have told him something like that today. Or was it the day before that?

Merlin finally reached the dungeons, and he closed his left fist around the rough fabric of the old cloak he was wearing, pulling it tighter to his chest. He nodded at the guards as he passed them by and strived towards ignoring the looks he could feel burning into his back, following him. The cloak wasn't his, it was one of Gaius' father's old cloaks that the old physician had kept for reasons that were beyond Merlin's comprehension. Similarly unfathomable reasons had also kept the cloak intact and still usable, fortunately. In any case, the fact that Gaius' father had apparently been a tall man made the hem of the cloak brush on the stone, making an annoying hissing sound as he proceeded trough the long tunnel flanked by iron barred cells.

He had, of course, tripped at least half a dozen times on the way to the dungeons, but now the way was clear and straight, so hopefully he wouldn't stumble again. Although that was the last thing on Merlin's mind right now. Merlin felt like someone had gripped his stomach in an iron fist that was harder than the bars of the cells he was passing by. And with each step the cell he was looking for was coming closer; and with each step the hand squeezed his stomach just that bit more. His throat felt pretty dry as well.

An uneasy pang of longing, of blame, of shame and of fear rang through his chest as said cell finally came into view-all too soon, if anyone asked him. He stopped in front of the door, which unlike the others wasn't made of bars: this was one of the few cells that had solid iron doors with heavy locks, blocking view of the interior.

Merlin took a moment to regain his breath, which he seemed to have lost somewhere along the way. Then his clenched his jaw and placed his palm on the cold metal, letting his magic slide down his arm under his skin, slip around his fingers and seep though his palm into the forged door. Why bother with the key? Besides, he had placed an enchantment on the door that made it impossible for anyone to go in or out, key or no key. In normal circumstances, he would've just put a spell to block magic users, or something even simpler, like a little spell to prevent anyone from magicking the door open. But he couldn't take any chances. Not with this one. So he'd put a complicated shield around the cell, anchoring it on the very walls, ceiling and floor of it: something which had been pretty complicated, as entire walls couldn't technically be used as anchors. Powerful spells usually needed an anchor if the sorcerer wasn't there to sustain them, or if they covered ranges too wide or needed to be maintained for too long. Crystals, stones, certain types of wood and metal: those were the kind of things that worked as good anchors for spells. Walls made of stone and doors made of metal didn't.

But then again. Magic would have gotten and continue to get nowhere if no one ever tried anything new, and if anyone had the required energy to experiment with things like these, that was Merlin.

So he had treated the walls and door with a special mixture Gaius had helped him make that was supposed to enhance the magical properties of stone and, respectively, metal, and then he had woven a magical thread through the center of every wall, using the mixture as a stabilizer.

He had had a hard time learning to divide the magic he was feeling around him naturally into threads, and then learning to see those threads it was made of. Gaius and even Kilgharrah had spent a great deal of time trying to get him to understand what magic was made of and how it actually worked, the dragon being a great (as much as Merlin hated to admit it) help. Now that he had mastered it, his magic awareness had increased greatly, and he could do basically any kind of spells and enchantments, whether they had been done before or not. Hence: this impossible shield.

Apparently, he could weave the threads between the stone and herbal mixture and it would hold. Really it was like sewing two different materials with his magic.

Merlin pushed the door open. It creaked. He stepped inside, the cloak swooshing in after him, brushing dust off the dirty floor. He closed the door behind him and reached inside his cloak, pulling out the bundle wrapped in a clean, white towel and kneeling in front of her.

Merlin placed the bundle down, opening it to reveal a large piece of meat that was still warm, two large slices of potato bread and an apple. The smell of food immediately filled his nostrils, and he could hear the prisoner shift her weight-she had probably smelled it, too. He finally raised his gaze.

She was glaring straight at him, her deep green eyes appearing to have been waiting for his blue ones to meet them. Merlin stared into those eyes or a long while, trying to decipher the reason behind them, but like every other time he found that he couldn't. That was what had him most intrigued with this girl: he couldn't read her. Merlin was exceptionally good at reading people, and yet she was a complete and utter mystery: a book closed and bound with strong leather straps. At the same time, something inside told him that she had a good heart. It was that gut feeling that had yet to fail him, that instinct that had always pointed to him the right direction. He had had it when Morgana had turned evil-even if he had ignored it-he had had it when the traitor Agravaine came into view. And he had it now also, telling him not to give up on her.

Merlin noticed that, despite all the food she'd been given and the relatively comfortable cot and blankets they'd provided her with, the girl still had ugly bags under her eyes, making the deep green of her orbs glow even harder with hatred. Her black hair also brought out her eyes as it fell around her face, tinged with a lighter shade at the top of her head.

After a full minute of staring, Merlin cleared his throat and recited what he'd been telling her for almost a month now.

"We're on your side, you know" the words somehow felt empty now, after all those times he'd said them. She kept glaring, not appearing to have heard him.

Merlin sighed and stood up, brushing his knees off. He turned around and put his hand on the door, knowing she wouldn't touch the food until he was gone. At the last moment though, he turned around and looked her in the eye.

"I'm sorry" And then he stepped out of the small cell, closing the door after him and reveling in the loud clang it made as it shut, his hand lingering there to act as a conduit for the magic that slithered around the door again. He could barely see the almost invisible threads reaching out from the main one at the centre of the door to mingle with the others, creating an impenetrable golden web only he could see. Merlin quickly retraced his steps, passing the guards in a blur and only allowing himself to breathe when he opened his eyes and saw that he was up on the battlements. He noticed he'd got there really fast. The warlock could feel the cold biting into his skin, but made no move to pull the cloak tighter around himself this time: the sensation felt relieving somehow.

The whole of Camelot stretched before him, a white layer of powder that glistened and sparkled in the red light of the dusk sun covering everything from three branches to rooftops. Already shivering wisps of smoke could be seen drifting from in-between houses, and the crowd that always bustled during the day had thinned considerably. To think that only a few hours ago he would have barely been able to see the muddy snow on the streets, now almost gone from all those people stepping on it. Merlin watched as the sun melted into the white that stretched beyond the lower town, the red getting darker and darker and the sky splitting into an inky blue. So enthralled was he by the view that he nearly fell over when someone suddenly spoke from behind him.

"How did it go?"

Merlin turned around and put a hand over his heart, feigning a panic attack.

"You nearly killed me!" he gasped, clutching at the brown cloak. Arthur snorted loudly, coming to stand beside him and resting his hands on the frozen stone railing.

"Good riddance, that would have been" he smirked at the setting sun, sending him a playful look. "Would have thrown a feast"

It was Merlin's time to snort. "You wouldn't have had the time-without me you'd be dead in the blink of an eye"

"Yeah, right"

Silence settle over the two as they both looked at the houses of the lower town huddled together, rather than looking at one another. Even their usual banter seemed frozen, dulled by the question hanging above them in the air.

"How did it go?" Arthur finally asked quietly, and Merlin watched the king's impassive face as he stubbornly watched the sun. The warlock sighed, lowering his own eyes to his fingers, which were white from the cold. He could barely feel them.

"It went as it always does" he replied. "She still won't speak to me"

Arthur sighed too, and the tension dissipated into a layer of defeat. Merlin locked his eyes onto Arthur's. He looked like he had already given up.

"We're going to make her see, Arthur. She's only been here two weeks-not even that" he told him, not sure if he was trying to convince Arthur or himself. The king threw one last look at the town, pressing his lips together. Merlin tensed: Arthur looked ready to protest. Surely he wasn't ready to give up just now, right?

Then Arthur's shoulders sagged and he started to turn away, back towards the warmth and cover of the castle. "Maybe" he glanced back.

"Come on. You have a room to clean" he added half heartedly, and Merlin grunted in response, following him. Despite that, the walk to the king's chambers was a quiet one, each of their thoughts drifting towards the girl in the dungeons.

Merlin wasn't quite sure himself why he didn't just give up. It had been, as he'd told the king, two weeks. Two weeks and she didn't waver, didn't seem to be inclining towards them. Sure, he could say they kept her because they needed information about Morgana, but that would be a lie: they had already gotten all the info that she owned-and it hadn't been that much to begin with. After all, Morgana wasn't known for telling ordinary soldiers about all of her plans, and that was what this girl was: a soldier.

Maybe that's what it was: the fact that she was just a soldier. Just another one of Morgana's pawns, just another lonely, desperate person who the witch had taken advantage of and dragged into her plots. This girl probably wasn't even evil. She was just another mistreated magical person, who had clung to the first one to show her any affection: and unfortunately that seemed to have been Morgana. Just like Morgause had been for the witch. Merlin clenched his fingers into fists at his sides.

The warlock had let one too many persons slip right through his fingers, waiting and doing nothing. And although this girl, this sorceress meant nothing to him, he would save her. He would be on time. She wouldn't turn out like Morgana, or like Freya, or like Lancelot, Mordred and countless other druids he hadn't managed to save in time.

No, he shook his head, staring at Arthur's back. No, he'd be damned if he let this girl fall into the same pit the others had.

* * *

**So what did you think? **

**Okay, the next chapters are probably going to be longer-just to let you know. **

**My guess is that I'll update once a week-at least now, because I have a lot of work on my plate what with school coming to an end and finals and all that. I might update earlier-and here I am talking about the next chapter in particular, because it's already half written-but we'll see. I'll always mention at the end of each chapter the update date-or possible derivations from that date. **

**Thank you all and see you next week on Wednesday(or tomorrow with the second chapter, if all goes according to plan)^^ **


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello everyone.  
**

**I realize it's a bit early, but I just could help myself. I really wanted to post this:) Besides, I told you I might update earlier, did I not? **

**Enjoy! **

* * *

_Then_

* * *

He was looking out the window. The sun was pooling under him, on the floor, seeping quietly over the edge of the still on which he was resting, back against the window frame, just taking in the view.

Camelot. The city he called home. When had he started to call it home, though? Now, it seemed as if it had always been his home. He couldn't picture his life without Camelot, and all the things and people that came with it, anymore. Yet had he not called another place his home for the first twenty years of his life?

Had he? He couldn't remember.

Merlin heaved a sigh. It had all gotten so complicated, so strange. He had come to the citadel as a young man-a boy, bag over his shoulder. He still remembered it all through a kind of crazy haze, as if the memories were moving too fast and he was only able to focus on the details: the hug his mother had given him just before he left; her hazel, kind eyes; the damp forest floor; the fire crackling and then Camelot-its high turrets peeking from behind the tree tops, glinting tantalizingly in the distance; the citadel shining, looming above him as he stood before the gates, as mighty and amazing as ever. His heart had pounded in his chest then, and there had been too many servants, too many knights, too many people, all of them rushing and pushing and joking, yelling: he had been dizzy, drunk with all the possibilities. And then he had been gripped by searing fear as he'd witnessed the execution, but he had shrugged it off, pushed it down. He would not let it spoil it for him. Not that day.

Merlin felt a smile tug at his lips, but it quickly fell back down. The sun was half-way buried under the horizon by now, and the pool of light stretching before the window was turning crimson. It reminded Merlin of blood, so he looked away. Blood reminded him of all that had happened.

How can you start with something so simple and get… this? How had they even reached this point? It amazed Merlin, people and how they worked. Life amazed Merlin. You start with nothing and end up with more than you can handle. You first know no one, and the next moment you're friends with an entire web of people. You start as peasants and servants, ladies and princes, and one day you wake up and realize you're a warlock of legends and prophecies, a queen, a rogue witch or a king.

It had gotten dark, the warlock realized. He stole a glance at the floor. The blood-like light was gone. As he lowered his feet on the stone and stretched his muscles, Mordred's face flashed before Merlin's eyes and he shut them closed as tight as he could. He would not think of it tonight. He was tired.

Merlin shuffled towards his room and he was already half-way there when the door creaked loudly as Gaius came back from his night rounds.

"Merlin" he called. Merlin turned around, offering him a weak smile.

"Hey Gaius. I think I'm going to skip dinner tonight"

Gaius dropped his medicine basket on the table, giving him that scrutinizing look: the one that made you feel as though he could see your deepest secrets and motivations, yet he was waiting for you to offer them. "Are you sure?"

He nodded. "I'm a bit tired"

Gaius nodded and Merlin continued on his way, climbed the small steps, put his hand on the knob. "Merlin?" He turned. Gaius was looking at him with a mix of sadness, fondness and understanding on his face. "It wasn't your fault"

Merlin could only nod as he pushed the door open and slipped inside, into the dark safety of his crammed bedroom.

* * *

Mordred died. One week ago, Mordred died.

It is true: people don't go with a bang, they go with a whimper. But sometimes it might take a very loud bang to kill them.

It had all started with Arthur's bane. That trip to the frozen lands to save Gwaine and Percival. Merlin had never trusted Mordred, not after what Kigharrah had told him all those years ago. He had never really managed to look at him the same again, not even as a small child. He remembered he had considered killing him that night: Arthur was trying to smuggle him safely out of the citadel, and Merlin had tried letting the young Mordred to the guards. In the end, he hadn't been able to do it: he had given in when Mordred had telepathically called him, the voice of a scared little kid accusing him in his mind.

That day he had let Mordred go, but the next time he'd really tried getting him killed, and the boy had seen right true him and left with a betrayed glare, promising never to forgive or forget. He had been wary of Mordred for a while after that, but when the druid boy didn't reappear in their lives, the warlock had slowly put the memory of him behind.

And then the years went by in a haze, and just like that came Arthur's bane and Morgana's dark tower, that damned expedition to the north. He could remember it clearly even now, how hard it had hit him: seeing the young man draw the cloth away from his face and realization slowly dawning on him with the weight of a brick wall: Mordred. All of those years, he had thought the druid boy was a figure of the past, that simply because he had not heard of him he would never come back into their lives. And there he was again: the threat to Arthur and his destiny. How could he have been so foolish as to believe they were safe from him?

Merlin had been flabbergasted though, because it seemed like Mordred was on their side. Even though the druid, too, seemed wary of Merlin(less wary than Merlin was of him, though) Mordred had saved them all, and Morgana hadn't been told of his identity as Emrys, though he was perfectly aware Mordred knew about that. The boy had known since he was little, after all.

Then Arthur had to go and knight Mordred, much to his infinite displeasure. It wasn't that Mordred didn't _seem _trustworthy-it looked like he genuinely was on Arthur's side. The druid had even told him: they were on the same side. He had admitted to changing his views, realizing that by attacking and trying to kill Arthur, sorcerers only proved the king was right in his belief that magic was evil. Merlin, as he was very good at reading people, could see that Mordred believed with all his heart and soul in what he was saying: he really_ was_ willing to let the past behind and trust them, to let the bitter memory of the Purge behind and serve Uther's son.

Merlin wanted to trust that man, to befriend and support him, because he had made the decision not many magic users had: to help Arthur instead of killing him for something he had not done. But something had stopped him, as it had all those years ago, when Mordred had been but a child: the heavy knowledge that he was destined to kill Arthur hung heavily in his heart and didn't let him drop his wariness. He couldn't let himself believe Mordred spoke the truth, because that would make it so hard for him to kill him if he had to.

Gaius had been a hard blow. The physician had fought with Merlin for weeks on end after Mordred's arrival, trying to convince him to trust the man. Merlin hadn't expected Gaius to be on the druid's side: he had genuinely been taken aback by the sheer determination his father figure seemed to posses in the matter. Gaius had been simply _adamant_ that Mordred should be trusted and given a second chance. He would have thought Gaius was controlled by some powerful spell had it not been for Kilgharrah.

Neither Mordred, nor Morgana or anyone else was powerful enough to enchant a dragon, and Kilgharrah was adamant as well that he should trust Mordred. And it was very peculiar, given the fact that the dragon was the one who had told him not to trust the druid in the first place. It was almost as if Gaius and Kilgharrah had teamed up against him on this matter.

Merlin had been very angry and twitchy that week: he couldn't even count the number of times he'd heard that "_Mordred is kin_", that "_he's loyal to Arthur and Camelot_", that he "_saved you and Arthur, Merlin. You owe the boy your lives_", that "_he forgave you for what you did all those years ago_", and so on and so forth.

So when Mordred had entered the physician's chambers one day, having been sent to fetch some healing salve for one of the knights, he had made quite the scene, barely managing to keep from blasting the druid into oblivion as he trotted up the stairs to his room and slammed the door with so much force that the shelves on the walls shook. (He may have accidentally used a little magic)

Gaius had come into his room that night, the night he had decided to trust Mordred. He had opened the door quietly, and spoken with a certain resignation at Merlin's back.

"_I won't try and change your mind anymore, Merlin, for it looks like it is already set. But as your mentor, I feel obliged to tell you that you are wrong. This is the last time I will talk to you on this matter" he told Merlin as the warlock was ready to protest, "so listen to me closely. Mordred might not be an innocent child anymore, but he is still young. You of all people should understand the risk he is taking and how hard it is for him to be here, on Arthur's side. He is probably scared, even more scared than you are, considering that he has the Emrys of prophecies on his bad side. _

"_You might not want to hear this, but his intentions are pure now. I fear that if you continue to push him away, he will end up like Morgana. I was wrong all those years ago: maybe if you _had_ trusted her with your secret, she will not be what she is now. I will not make the same mistake again. _

"_Forget about the prophecies and the legends. Knowing what will be didn't ever do you any good, did it? Just follow your heart. If there's anything in this world I believe in more than any prophecy and destiny" Gaius reached out and pressed softly on Merlin's chest, right above his heart, "that is your heart" _

Then Gaius had bid him a silent "Good night" and left him in the silence to contemplate his words and figure out how much his heart weighted over his fear. By the end of that sleepless night, Merlin had found his answer.

He remembered waking up, going straight for the knights' training ground, walking up to Mordred and offering his hand. Mordred had taken it.

And that's when he had started trusting him, Mordred, the boy destined to kill Arthur.

Merlin was woken out of his daydreaming by the sound of his name. He looked up to see one of the new kitchen staff members looking at him with eyes a little fearful.

"Yes, can I help you?" he asked, trying to smile pleasantly. Did he really look that bad?

The boy shifted on his feet, fiddling with his hands. "H-his Highness King Arthur has requested you to bring him his l-lunch" he stuttered.

Ah, Merlin thought. That explained it. After the battle, Arthur had sent a servant to inform him that he was released of his duties until further notice, and since then he had not seen nor heard anything from the king. But there was talk among the palace staff, talk about the sour and dangerous moods their king was in. All the new servants were apparently terrified of Arthur.

Merlin only nodded, maintaining his expression blank. "Of course. Thanks" he flashed the boy an encouraging smile, but the young servant merely looked at him, still terrified from his encounter with the king. Merlin made a mental note to talk to Arthur about scaring all of the staff.

The warlock stood and gave to leave, only to feel a shaky hand grab his arm. He turned to look at the boy, whose wide brown eyes were on his.

"Good luck" he said, attempting a small smile.

Merlin wondered whether to tell him that he'd deal with the prat and teach him some manners, but somehow it didn't seem like the servant could take the joke. He'd probably be afraid someone would come and sentence them to death for calling the king a "prat". So he settled for a simple "Thank you".

The boy released him and Merlin started towards the king's chambers, only to remember that he was supposed to deliver him lunch and turn around again.

As he took his usual unpopulated shortcut to Arthur's rooms, tray in his hands, Merlin wondered if the boy had known he was the king's manservant. But was he? Was he still Arthur's manservant? Merlin wasn't sure the double doors came into view, Merlin felt a shiver run down his spine as it finally caught up to him, stopping him in his tracks in the middle of the empty corridor: this was the first time he would speak to Arthur after Camlann. Merlin felt his heart beat in his temples, and suddenly all the confidence left him at once. They would have to talk about _that_. And Merlin wasn't sure he wanted to talk about _that_, not now, not ever. Because surely Arthur had figured it out by now. The king had probably even come to a decision-why else would he call on Merlin now, after a whole week? Merlin would bet his life it wasn't simply because Arthur had no one to deliver him lunch. After all, there were plenty of more capable, better servants in the castle.

Merlin closed his eyes shut, taking a deep breath in. This was ridiculous: this was Arthur he was talking about. Arthur, his friend. Why was he so scared, and why now? Suddenly, Merlin wished he hadn't been ignoring the thought of this confrontation all week. Maybe he would have been better prepared for it and not standing in the middle of the hallway, shaking like a leaf at the thought of talking to his best friend.

When he finally opened his eyes, it was to the image of his hands gripping the tray so hard it made his knuckles white. Merlin took another breath in, steeling himself and straightening his shoulders, pushing everything down, down, down, until only the heavy pounding of his heart remained as proof of all the doubts and fears he had hidden. He took a step forwards, then another one, then another one, every step echoing off the walls, until he found himself in front of the doors. His hand reached out of its own accord, mechanically closing around the doorknob.

Merlin briefly wondered if he should knock, but the idea was immediately chased away. He had never knocked and he wasn't going to start now.

Hesitating only for the smallest fraction of a second, Merlin guessed there was nothing to it. He swallowed and pushed the door open.

* * *

**What did you think?  
**

**That's what I meant by a different story structure... Hopefully it will be okay:D **

**I will still update on Wednesday, as promised:) **

**Until then^^ **


	3. Chapter 3

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Merlin. I own the OC's and the story. **

**Hey there. It's late and I'm a bit tired, so I apologize beforehand for whatever grammar/spelling mistakes might happen to still be in there. **

**Enjoy! **

* * *

_Now_

* * *

Merlin waved his hand above the potion, making the steams swirl in the direction of his face. He inhaled deeply a couple of times, the powerful smell of plants making him dizzy. He gagged and coughed, setting the bowl on the table and moving away from it, in desperate need of clean air.

When the white dots that blurred his vision disappeared, he moved from one corner of the table to the other, brushing aside leaves and one old scroll, revealing the old book he'd gotten the potion instructions from. He traced the instructions with his fingers, which had somehow acquired a greenish shade-probably from all that grinding leaves together.

"Right…" Merlin mumbled to no one in particular. He glanced at the bowl, from which steam still rose, dancing into the air, filling the room with the foul smell he hoped would be replaced by fresh air before Gaius came back from his rounds. Merlin walked back to the other corner of the packed table, watching the bowl from a distance as though considering the best way to approach the problem.

Finally, he decided that the best way to go would be to do it from a distance. If any unfortunate accidents-such as, say, an explosion-might occur(not that _that_ was in any way a possibility) Merlin was sure he wanted to be as far away from it as he could. Under no circumstances would he allow that foul smelling mixture anywhere near his skin. The warlock raised his hand, focusing his magic and feeling it tingle as it gathered under his skin and travelled towards the tips of his fingers.

"_Freosan_" he ordered, and as soon as the words left his lips he pushed his magic towards the bowl. Now that he had mastered it, he could most of the time see what he wouldn't have been able to a couple of years before. This time, too, he tried seeing the three golden threads that ripped from his fingers, shooting forwards faster that the eye could register and crawling at lightning speed into the bowl, smothering the steam. But all this happened so fast he barely managed to make anything out, and he sighed. Thread-seeing was for more powerful enchantments, not quick little spells such as these. Magic moved so fast it was impossible to feel it with little things like freezing bowls of herbal mixture.

Merlin tensed, but nothing happened. And then nothing continued to happen, so much that after a few seconds he deemed it safe enough to approach the table. He could never be sure: more than one incident in the past had made Merlin wary of being too close to objects of his own spells.

Inside the metal bowl was a dark green paste, a layer of frozen crystals covering it-a result of Merlin's cooling spell. Apparently he had, as always, overdone it. But the mixture should work nonetheless. There was only one way to find out, Merlin mused, as he gathered his courage and rolled the sleeve of his right hand up, hesitating for only one second before dipping two fingers into the very-_very_-foul smelling green, _mushy_, _cold_-_Ew!_-thing.

Merlin almost gagged again as he retrieved his hand, green paste covering his fingers.

"The things I do for Camelot" he muttered, and without further ado he smeared it onto the silver metal surface of Arthur's chest plate. The chest plate he had polished to the shiny surface of a mirror, Merlin thought bitterly, and the chest plate also _he_ would have to polish and clean again after all of this fiasco.

Merlin gritted his teeth, mumbling incoherent curse after incoherent curse under his breath as ever so slowly, finally, the chest plate was covered in a layer of green. He sighed, stepping back to admire his work.

He had been so busy lately, what with trying to secretly organize the druid troops, conduct peace negotiations with what druid tribes were not on their side yet, improve the shields and armors of Camelot's knights with magic, deal with the trapped druid girl in the dungeons….

First, there had been the negotiations with the _Brimmaro _druid tribe south of the Great Seas of Meredor. Camelot really needed an alliance with them, as they were the most influential druids in the south and most of the allies Merlin had gotten them were in the north, and respectively east. For the past three years, Merlin had been acting as an unofficial Court Sorcerer, strengthening bonds and making alliances and peace with as many druid tribes as he could, to help them in the war with Morgana as well as in preparation for when Arthur would finally make magic legal. The thing was, not all of the druids simply swore their allegiance to him because of who he was, and that had made things a little bit more complicated than he'd originally thought.

And these _Brimmaro _dudes… Well. They had been a handful. The negotiations had gone on for months one end, and Merlin had been forced to travel between Camelot and the damned castle of Fyrien so much people had begun to ask questions. After all, why was Arthur's first manservant always leaving? There were so many times Arthur could send him on an errand outside of Camelot and so many times his mother could fall ill, after all.

Atop his duties as unofficial Court Sorcerer, which occupied most of his time, Merlin still had to act as one of Arthur's personal servants. Of course, the king couldn't just sack Merlin, because he still needed him by his side, and Merlin would have no reason to be there if he wasn't his manservant, at least not yet, not with the law against magic still intact. Well… not intact exactly. It had been a year and a half since Arthur changed the law: magic was still illegal, but you weren't heading toward the executioner's block anymore.

And then there was the war with Morgana… It had been going on for three years, ever since she had declared war. Both sides had lost and both sides had won many battles. However, what worried Merlin was that it did not look like it would end soon: Morgana kept gathering followers, while they too became stronger, sneaking magic into their army without being too obvious about it.

For the past week Merlin had been trying a new spell: an idea he'd gotten while talking to Gaius about shields. Some time ago, he had developed a form of protection enchantment that he could put on the knights' shields, and all of Camelot's shields were now treated with a special herb mixture and, unknowingly to most knights, of course, enchanted. Of course, they weren't perfect-he'd need real, live, magical shields for that, something that wasn't possible if they were to keep up the pretences, but they would do. Many knights have noticed that spells seemed to strangely reflect off of their shields, but thankfully all of them had kept silent. Merlin wasn't pleased though: the shields were proving not to be enough, and the enchantment wore off too quickly if you hit one with enough spells.

So Merlin had come up with the idea of enhancing the very armor the knights wore, make it somewhat spell-proof. Their chances of winning would increase immensely if they could fight without the magical disadvantage. Only Merlin was still working on the details.

Merlin focused, closing his eyes and breathing in and out deeply, clearing his mind of thoughts. He started muttering the long incantation, the words slipping past his lips almost without him having to think them: after all, he _had_ been the one to invent them.

Instead of focusing on what he was saying, Merlin directed the warm tingle of magic to his eyes, and when he opened them the world burst into color: yellow, golden, green, blue-all colors of thin, smoky threads, like wisps of smoke softly shining in the dark, appeared everywhere. They were woven through the tables, clung to the ceiling and fell off of the edge of the table, surrounded the scrolls and books and mingled with the colorful liquids of Gaius' potions.

The world was always so much more alive when he was thread-seeing, really thread-seeing: seeing all the magic that he could at his level. The first time he had managed to do it, it had been as though he had finally opened his eyes: for magic was indeed woven through the very fabric of the earth: everything had magic and everything was magic.

Merlin searched for the golden magic humans sometimes possessed among the many colors and found his wisps of gold glinting inside the green mixture he had applied earlier on the chest plate. He could feel multiple threads under his skin, threatening to burst out through his fingertips: he let them.

He pushed the magic further slowly, and the threads, so woven together they looked like a wave of golden light, floated to the plate, closing around it and curling themselves around the metal, through the mixture, fixating on the threads that were already there. When the plate was entirely covered in a web of golden light, Merlin shut his eyes with a sigh and staggered back a few steps, gripping the chair behind him for support. It took a lot of focus for him to thread-see like that and concentrate on correctly using his magic at the same time. Merlin only hoped it had worked.

He opened his eyes. The world was normal again, and as always after using his magic to thread-see Merlin couldn't help but notice, with a pang in his chest, how dull it looked, compared to the exhilarating world he had just seen.

The chest plate was no exception: it was back to its original mucky green-covered silver.

Merlin approached it, scrunching up his nose. He would have to do something about that smell. But right now, he needed to know if it had worked. He thought for a second, before taking a step back and conjuring a blue shield, making it hover around the plate. Only then did Merlin release the magical fireball at the piece of armor, very proud he had thought about protecting the room before shooting fire at Arthur's armor. _Not like last time_, a voice that sounded strangely close to that of his mentor's rang through his head. Seeing the armor still intact, Merlin smothered a jolt of joy. Not yet, he thought as he simply decided to release an incessant wave of magical fire at the metal.

It was as he was raining blue flames at Arthur's chest plate, the blue shield keeping the room from being damaged, that Gaius' voice found its way through Merlin's focus.

"_Merlin_!?" the physician half-gasped, half-yelled, and Merlin lost all of his focus as he looked up, flustered, the shield ripping to shining pieces in the air and the flames disappearing.

"G-Gaius" Merlin grinned, flashing his mentor an innocent look.

Gaius was standing in the doorway looking slightly terrified, hand over his heart and basket in hand. He stared at Merlin for a few seconds, then his gaze travelled down to the chest plate that was not damaged in any way(_Yes! I did it!_),,and back again to Merlin.

His face seemed to go through the whole set of human emotions, from shock, to fear, to anger, to a series of fast flashes of unreadable expressions, finally settling on exasperation. Gaius raised his famous _Eyebrow_.

"You are going to be the death of me" he stated, in not a very happy tone, Merlin couldn't help but notice. Then he turned his back and started emptying his basket methodically, pointedly not looking at Merlin.

Merlin shifted uneasily from foot to foot, unsure of what to do. Maybe he should just flee and leave the old man to calm down? Yes, that seemed like a very good idea. The warlock sighed.

"But Gaius" he began in a tone that was _not _whiny, widely gesturing towards the metal plate with his hands. "It worked!"

When Gaius made no move to show the exhilaration Merlin was feeling, he decided to try again. "It _worked_! The _spell_ Gaius! The protection enchantment I was going to put on the armors! _It worked!_"

Gaius stopped, turning and studying Merlin very carefully for a couple of seconds. Then he sighed.

"Yes, I have noticed" he relented. "Well done, Merlin"

Merlin felt like whooping and it was all he could do not to do so.

"But you should think of doing something about that smell" added Gaius, turning back to arrange the bottles on his shelf. "I hardly think Arthur-or any of the knights for that matter-will appreciate it if their armor emanated this unique… scent"

Merlin couldn't help himself. He chuckled. "Yeah, I know. The smell will probably kill them all before any fighting even begins"

"Weren't you supposed to be at dinner though?"

_Penny in the air. _

Merlin's eyes widened.

_Penny dropping with an ominous clang. _

Merlin cursed and was in his room before Gaius could blink, slamming the door after him. Gaius shook his head and slowly returned to his task of putting the different bottles of potions and pouches of herbs onto their right places on the "work" shelf. Several curses could be heard from behind the wooden door, a couple of thuds that could only mean Merlin's mess of a room would not survive this without becoming an even bigger mess. At one point, a very loud bang reached the physician's ears, and he pursed his lips in frustration at the _very _colorful curse that followed it.

Finally, Merlin emerged from the room, dressed in his best long-sleeved red shirt, a pair of trousers Gaius was sure had to have been cleaned by magic-because the last he remembered, they had been caked with dried mud-and a dark leather jacket. Gaius ran his eyes critically over Merlin's lanky form. Somehow, even as he tried to look more presentable than usual, given that he too was a guest, the boy managed to look even lankier.

"What do you think?" asked the warlock, glancing down at himself before lifting his gaze back to Gaius. The old man didn't look happy.

"You might want to lose the neckerchief" he finally said, and Merlin had to look down at his neck. He hadn't even noticed it was there! He snorted, giving to grab Gaius' old cloak before stopping with his hand mid-way and hesitating. He let the idea go, storming out the door without the cloak.

"See you later" he threw over his shoulders, speeding down the stairs and bursting into a run as he reached the courtyard.

Cold air hit him square in the face with the force of a brick wall, and Merlin staggered for a second, almost losing his balance and slipping on the snow. He wrapped his arms around himself, brushing up and down as he slowed to a safer jog. He hated winters, he mused. There was steam coming out of his mouth in shallow puffs as he panted, finally reaching the stairs and climbing. Merlin thanked all the Gods, even those he did not believe in, when he found himself speeding up again through the definitely a thousand times warmer corridors of the castle.

Two weeks before, Arthur had been on the usual bonding hunting trip that would settle the newly acquired peace with the Essetir, when Morgana's men had attacked. The girl they had caught had sneaked into Camelot with a group of four other men and tried to kill the queen. Of course, Merlin had stopped them in time. They only managed to catch _her_, but when they did they realized the druid girl's assassination attempt had been a decoy. She had been Merlin's bait.

That was the problem with Morgana knowing who he was: she always tried getting him out of her way, separating him and Arthur. And she almost made it, two weeks ago. Merlin had been forced to call upon Garrah and Nigfyr, his two trained wyverns, and sent them forth to help the kings and their party. And just in time, because even with the wyvern's help, when Merlin got there Arthur, the King of Essetir and what was left of the knights were barely managing to hold off a group of ten sorcerers. Needless to say, the treaty had to be remade because of Essetir's newfound knowledge about Camelot's unofficial Court Sorcerer.

And now that everything was finally settled, King Harald had sent his son, Prince Reginald, to Camelot, and Arthur was supposed to entertain him for two weeks. Part of that entertainment consisted of, unfortunately, basically whatever Reginald wanted. And _his highness_ Reginald had insisted that he dine with Camelot's famous unofficial Court Sorcerer. So Arthur had arranged for a very private dinner, with no guards and only Kyle, his other manservant, as the only one to serve them. That was because Kyle was the only servant in the castle aware of Merlin's unofficial position. Merlin didn't envy him in the least.

Merlin wished he'd been more suitably dressed for this. Had he had more time on his hands, maybe he might have prepared and dressed in the few clothing items he had gathered strictly for occasions such as these. But as it was, he had _forgotten_ about the dinner, and his only more elegant wear were the things on him now: the red shirt and the light dark jacket Arthur had given him for his last birthday. It was more expensive than anything he had, but not expensive enough for people to think he wouldn't have been able to buy it on his own if he'd saved money. It was possible.

That was the problem with this dinner: he had to still look like the servant so as not to make the people in the castle suspicious, but at the same time had to enter the dining hall looking like a powerful Court Sorcerer of Camelot. Merlin groaned as he reached the servants' doors, taking a moment to regain his breath. Druids had never cared how he looked. Besides, he didn't even like this Reginald. Merlin drew a long breath in and stood at his tallest, straightening his neckerchief. This would be interesting.

He opened the doors and quietly closed them behind him, almost walking into Kyle when he turned. Merlin gasped and Kyle gave a silent chuckle.

"Gods, Kyle!" he hissed, shoving past the boy half-heartedly. "I told you not to do that"

"Sorry" Kyle answered, obviously trying to muffle his laughter. Merlin tsked. Kyle loved sneaking up on people and scaring them to their deaths. He noticed the tray in his hands, empty goblets sitting on it, and he groaned again.

"Please tell me they've had only one refill" he closed his eyes. He didn't really want to know. Merlin heard Kyle chuckle again.

"You'd better get in there. The king is soon going to throw a fit"

Manning up, Merlin opened his eyes to see that Kyle was gone. Hearing the servant's footsteps behind him, he whirled around in panic but it was too late: Kyle was already whispering into Arthur's ear. Arthur turned, squinting into the shadows, and Merlin was forced to come out into the light. To say that Arthur threw daggers at his head was an understatement.

"Ah, here he is" He announced, smiling at Reginald. His voice was a very sharp blade covered in honey. He waved his arm toward him. "Sir Reginald, may I present you, my unofficial as of yet Court Sorcerer"

Merlin smiled at his king, bowing first in front of him, then going to place a kiss on Gwen's hand and finally bowing to Reginald.

"My Lord, it is an honor" he said in his most monotonous tone, forcing himself to smile at the man.

Sir Reginald scrunched his long nose, sticking his chin higher into the air. "Likewise" he drawled, and Merlin had to struggle to refrain from throttling him. He sat at his place, offering his apologies and saying something or the other about having been held up by official(ahem, _un_official) Court Sorcerer business. Sickening, polite conversation filled the room, and Merlin had to grit his teeth and smile every time he answered_ Sir_ Reginald.

The man was a tall, ugly, lanky, sly bastard. He had shoulder-length greasy black hair, small onyx eyes and a long nose. And Merlin hated him and the way he looked down at everyone, the way he treated Gwen because of her lack of noble blood and the way he held his pointed chin too high in the air. And the way he dragged every word. And the way he sighed dramatically. And everything about him.

Arthur seemed to be of the same opinion as he was, because by the second dish he could clearly see his knuckles white on the silverware. By dessert, Gwen had a dark shadow over her eyes.

And by the end of the dinner, Merlin had to move around delicately, lest accidentally let his magic slip. Not that Arthur would have been, judging by his face, too angry about that.

* * *

The worst part of the dinner had been, Merlin mused as he climbed down the circular stairs he knew all too well by now, food in one hand and torch in the other, that his _idiocy_ Reginald wanted to go out tomorrow and have Merlin make him a demonstration of his magical ability! The nerve that man had was amazing, he thought as he grit his teeth against the cold down here, picking up his pace.

Merlin reached the long corridor and started walking down on it, lost in murderous thoughts about "accidents" during his demonstration tomorrow, when a commotion at the end of said corridor reached his ears. He halted, squinting his eyes at the opening he could see at the end of the long tunnel. The only thing he could make out was a small point of light, which would be the torch Merlin knew stood at the entrance to the dungeons.

When nothing happened, Merlin gave to walk again but was stopped the second time by the light flickering for a second, and then distant footsteps echoing through the dark. Someone was running, running down the corridor _towards_ him. Thinking fast, Merlin whispered "_þeostru_" under his breath, the flames on his torch dying out instantly with a low hiss.

Merlin glanced back. He couldn't go that way, the staircase was lit by a torch on the wall, at the base. He'd be seen immediately. Several other figures started filing through the opening, these ones definitely knights of Camelot, carrying torches that made the red of their cloaks shine bright in the dark.

"Stop right there!" one of the knights yelled.

Merlin cursed again. What to do, what to do? He backed away slowly, the intruder's steps growing closer fast, really fast. He looked back towards the torch at the stairs… And he felt like kicking himself. Of course, he could always just…

"_þeostru"_ he muttered, and the torch at the base of the stairs suddenly went out. He set the tray of food down near the wall, holding onto his extinguished torch as he started running away from the knights and down the corridor that he knew too well. "_Deaf_" he breathed as he ran, making his footsteps silent.

If he remembered correctly, this corridor ended on one side in the dungeons-where they were running from-and on the other in a very ugly dead-end. Only that it wasn't a dead-end, Merlin thought as he let his hand slide onto the stone wall on his left as he ran, it had a door that led to the caves below the castle, one that not many knew about.

He stopped when his fingers slid over wood and hurriedly opened said door, slipping inside and closing it after him, leaving it open just a crack so he could see what was happening. The footsteps grew louder and louder, finally rushing past where he was hiding. He heard a short yell and a crash, followed by a muffled curse. HE winced. Whoever had been running had just found out in a most undesirable way of the dead-end.

Light started crawling through the hallway and Merlin heard the knights as they slowed to a walk, now that they had caught the intruder. Merlin counted six armed knights by-passing the door nobody was paying attention to and directed his gaze to this intruder.

A girl, probably around twenty years old, was staying with her back pressed to the stone, cradling her left arm in her right hand. A dark green cloak was covering her shoulders and her face was shadowed by a large hood. A druid, Merlin guessed, and immediately sensed her magic. Somehow, her magic seemed familiar. He frowned. Why would it seem familiar? There was just something… Merlin shrugged as one of the guards spoke up, and he could see the tip of a sword glinting through his slit.

"Surrender without a fight and you will receive a fair trial" said the knight. Merlin didn't recognize him.

He sensed her magic gathering as she ignored the demand. He could clearly see her hands shaking as she raised her right palm towards the guards.

"S-stay back!" she threatened, her voice weak. Merlin frowned again, jolting upright. There was something about that voice, just like there was about her magic.

Merlin shook his head, trying to focus on the situation at hand. He could sense a generous amount of magic in her, but he didn't think she could get away. She was obviously going to try anyway, and she would probably hurt someone.

One knight gave to move forward, but she shouted, this time louder and more determined.

"Stay back I said!" The knights hesitated. One of them approached slowly, raising his hands in a gesture of peace, blocking Merlin's view of the girl.

"It's alright. We won't hurt you if you just come with us" he said and Merlin could feel her hesitation in her magic. The knight moved a little closer, light dancing on his red cloak.

And then he suddenly moved, jumping at the druid girl.

* * *

**Thank you very much for reading. Very, very much:D  
**

**I know everything is a bit confusing now, especially since there seems to be much information, but that might be because I'm too tired to focus well. Anyway, tell me what you think? **

**I'll update this Saturday. **

**See you then^^ **


	4. Chapter 4

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Merlin. I own the OC's and the story. **

**I am very much sorry for the delay. Last night I wanted to post this, but the fanfiction server kept erroring me and just wouldn't load. Again, I apologize. **

**Enjoy! **

* * *

_Then_

* * *

Arthur had tried his best not to think these past days. He had given his all to his duties, but had apparently failed miserably, because not only had he not managed to accomplish anything, but the talk that had been going on amongst the staff had reached even _his_ ears. Yes, it seemed as if he had traumatized the newly appointed members of the staff for life, and he had also scared the living hell out of the old members. Even the Council, he had heard, was afraid of him now. Maybe that's why Gwen had insisted she attend on his behalf.

_Gwen_. It seemed even with her he was irritable and moody, but at least he hadn't lashed out at his queen the way he had at servants. Arthur had to admit, he had been awful to each and every servant that had brought him meals, cleaned his chambers, or had simply been unfortunate enough to find himself within his perimeter. He had yelled at them, he had snapped, he had given them _the_ glare he usually saved for the rookie knights(so as to scare them).

Arthur sighed, stopping his pacing and running a hand through his hair, closing his eyes. He felt exhausted and angry. Even if he had tried not to think about it, all of his nights were plagued by the same thoughts and all of his days by the same worries.

The king had been aware he wasn't well, but had only realized how disturbed he was by this whole situation when Gwaine had punched him the other day. He had been pretty awful to the knights of the Round table as well, so he supposed he deserved it. Arthur hadn't really talked to them the whole week either, and whenever one of them tried to engage him into some form of conversation, he would snap at them. Really, he was glad Gwaine had punched him.

The infamous knight had walked up to him, flipping his hair as usual, come to a halt in front of him, and said only one word: "Arthur". The whole training ground had turned to them, because it had been some time since anyone had dared come so close to their king. Of course, upset for being ripped out of his thoughts, Arthur had snapped at Gwaine.

"_What do you want?"_ he had hissed. Gwaine had just looked at him-or rather glared at him-and then, without any warning, he had punched Arthur square in the jaw.

Arthur hadn't seen it coming, so the punch had landed perfectly, sending the king stumbling a couple of steps back. Well, at least he had forgotten all about his dark brooding for one moment, only managing to stare at Gwaine in shock. "_Did you just punch me?_" he had said, sounding for the first time in a long time like himself.

"_Good, you're awake_" Gwaine had said. "_Now go and sort whatever's wrong between you and Merlin out_"

Then he had just walked away, the whole courtyard staring at their king. When Arthur woke up from his trance and looked around, everyone was suddenly scurrying off to somewhere they had a very important job to do.

Gwen had also told him he should talk to Merlin, she too having noticed something was off. She had told him that a healthy number of times, actually, but he had only ever really listened to her after Gwaine's punch, when she was tending to his bruised jaw. (And slightly bruised pride)

Arthur supposed he should be grateful, to both of them. He needed to talk about this to Merlin, because if he had reached any conclusion at all during all those sleepless nights, it was that Merlin was his friend. Or at least had been. Still was.

Arthur closed his eyes and breathed in and out. In and out. In and…

The king tensed up at the sound of the door opening, turning around on instinct. He immediately wished he had taken the time.

There, closing the door carefully after him, was Merlin. The servant turned, tray in hand, and froze when his eyes landed exactly on Arthur's. They stared at one another for a couple of long, very long, seconds.

Merlin looked a little unwell, as well. Arthur supposed that his appearance must be similar to Merlin's, who had bags under his eyes, ruffled hair(not that Merlin's hair was ever carefully combed), pale skin. He still looked like Merlin, only a Merlin that had spent one too many nights in the tavern.

The servant tore his gaze away first, walking to place the tray on the table.

"Sire" he greeted, without looking at Arthur. The king noticed his fingers trembled ever so slightly as he put down the tray.

Merlin turned to him, fiddling nervously with his hands for a while under Arthur's gaze, as though not quite sure what to do with them, finally clasping them behind his back. Then he remained still, watching Arthur back as the king studied him.

"You are aware you have scared half the castle to death, right?" Merlin suddenly said, the cheerful words not extending to his voice and expression, which were dead serious bordering on fearful.

Arthur stared, emotions so opposite and strong warring for domination inside his shell of calm silence.

_Arthur raised his sword to strike, knowing he couldn't possibly fight all of them off. They were too many. There had been too many of them from the beginning. But what could he do? Give up? No, he would fight until the very end, and he would die if he must. _

_Arthur's eyes shut instinctively at the sound of a loud thunder and a sudden blinding light, the faceless screams piercing through the darkness. He opened his eyes again, only to stop in shock, sword gripped in confusion as he stared at half a dozen Saxons lying unconscious on the ground. _

_Now, there were many Saxons, as well as knights of Camelot, lying unconscious on the ground, but what made this particular group so special was the fact that not one second ago, they had all been charging at him, swinging their axes and swords and roaring. _

_Arthur turned, hearing metal cling behind him, just in time to see another group of Saxons coming at him, then being suddenly blasted off their feet by an invisible force. The Saxons landed on their backs, not moving. Arthur didn't think he had ever felt this confused before. He looked around, trying to spot the source of these mysterious invisible forces that had knocked the Saxons unconscious. Finally, he spotted a figure standing on the top of the rocks, looming over the battlefield. As he squinted his eyes in order to see better, realization hit him in a powerful wave: he __knew__ that man. Staff in hand, red robes dark, the old sorcerer who had killed his father looked right into his eyes, then turned his gaze away and raised his staff, blasting another group of Saxons off of their feet. _

_Arthur looked around him, noticing Saxons flying this way and that, his own knights as confused as he was. Strange words that sounded more animal than human reached his ears, and Arthur turned to the old sorcerer again, seeing his lips moving. The confusion dissipated when the white dragon that had been diving at them suddenly stopped, hovering mid air and then flying away. Arthur felt his lips turn into a small smile, in spite of himself. Sorcerer or not, it seemed as if this man didn't much like the Saxons. It wasn't like he could do anything to stop him, and they hadn't been exactly winning until now, so Arthur figured there was nothing to it. _

_Raising his sword, he shot forward, attracting the attention of all the knights. _

"_For the love of Camelot!" They answered with roars and shrill yells, charging at the remaining Saxons. Maybe they had a chance to win this fight, after all. _

Arthur closed his eyes at the memories flashing through his mind, but that didn't help him much. Actually, it seemed as if the darkness behind his eyelids made them all the more vivid.

_Swords clashing, roars, screams, yells and shouts. Sweat and heat and cold, darkness and blinding flashes of white, followed by more of their enemies being sent backwards unconscious. Arthur fought with renewed strength. Maybe magic wasn't so bad after all. Sure didn't feel like it right then, what with the tides having turned in their favor so much. Arthur dodged an axe swing from his left, pushing his shoulder into a sweaty Saxon on his right and swinging his sword with deadly precision at his throat. _

He had to ask him, but he feared the answer. So many had betrayed him: Morgana, his father, his uncle, even Mordred-after everything he'd done for him. Merlin… no, but Merlin didn't betray him. He couldn't. Yet…

"It was you, wasn't it?" he finally heard himself ask, the words slipping past his lips before he had the chance to stop them. He looked at Merlin, who looked back at him, willing the servant to deny it.

* * *

Merlin set the tray on the table, not even noticing how his fingers shook. Then he turned back. Arthur was watching him closely, and Merlin found himself more unnerved by it that he should be. He tried placing his hands at his sides, but found that he couldn't stop them from moving, and finally he clasped them firmly behind his back.

He studied Arthur for a while, noticing that the king looked like he had not gotten too much sleep. Merlin supposed he looked at least twice as bad, for he hadn't been able to get any sleep at all. Not after what happened.

"You are aware you have scared half the castle to death, right?" he tried to joke, but for some reason his voice had sounded hoarse, as if he was being strangled. Arthur didn't answer, just continued to stare as if Merlin hadn't spoken at all.

Mordred and Merlin had worked perfectly well together, as friends. Merlin had been happy for a while, having someone he could share his secret with, someone who had the same burden on his shoulders, someone who understood him. For a short amount of time, someone with the same abilities had watched his back, covered up for him in front of the knights, helped him. Merlin had been happy to take the risk to trust Mordred.

When the Disir summoned Arthur and Mordred had been injured, Merlin had healed him and that had sealed their friendship. The warlock had still feared, but not because of Mordred. The Disir told him Arthur would have to choose: choose between magic and a friend, and Merlin was worried about it.

He hadn't even realized what it had meant until Mordred's childhood friend, Kara, showed up. They had been on a patrol and she apparently was on the Saxons' side. Merlin had gone with Mordred because the girl had been wounded and together they managed to patch her up and hide her for a few days in the woods. They had argued a lot about Kara, because regardless of what they told her, she wouldn't change her views on Arthur being as bad as Uther.

Mordred had then went and told her that Arthur was the Once and Future King, and that had led to Merlin being discovered as Emrys, something the warlock hadn't exactly appreciated. That was why they fought. However, they got over their arguments when Gwaine's patrol caught Kara, He had seen the way Mordred looked at her: it was the same way he used to look at Freya. He couldn't just leave his friend like that, despite all the fights in the world. So together they tried pleading with Arthur, and when that didn't work they planned to help her escape. Merlin had understood Arthur's reasoning: he couldn't exactly let one girl go, and sentence all the rest to death. And Kara hadn't helped either, what with her anti-Pendragon rant.

But he had tried one last time, telling Arthur that this was the woman Mordred loved. That she had been misled and if he strived to make peace with the druids, he had to start by proving he was not his father. And the only way to do that was _not _to act like Uther.

Mordred and Merlin had been planning Kara's escape when Arthur barged in on them.  
_"I can't change the law based on one girl. I'm sorry" he apologized, looking first at Mordred, then at Merlin, and then suddenly stroking his chin in deep thought. "But Gregory and Richard are going to be on guard duty tonight-you know how they are, those two. They always fall asleep on duty so it wouldn't surprise me if they did now as well. And the patrols might be distracted by a possible breach at the western gates, which would leave an opening for anyone who would want to leave Camelot through the tunnels-that if you have someone to open the gates for you on the other side. Oh, and as the king, it is my duty to interrogate the prisoner one last time" he continued, reaching into his pouch to retrieve the dungeons keys, waving them n front of his face. He pocketed them again. "You know how clumsy I am sometimes, Merlin. And I always carry the keys with me, so if I happen to drop them by accident…" _

_Mordred gaped, while Merlin smiled wickedly at Arthur. "Yes, sire. We all know how clumsy you are. No one would blame you if the keys would get lost." _

Merlin remembered Kara, telling them that "_It seems like Arthur is not Uther, after all_", right before sprinting into the woods.

He had been happy again for a while: Arthur had chosen his friend. He had chosen to trust Kara, a druid, because of Mordred.

And then things had taken a turn for the worse again. Mordred had come into his room while he was making a potion for Gaius, telling him that he had been supposed to meet Kara and she hadn't come. So they had gone looking: and found her bleeding, too late to save her. It had been Morgana. Last thing she did, Kara looked straight at him and told him: "_She doesn't know_".

While Mordred was sobbing, it had taken Merlin a full minute to understand what she had meant: she hadn't betrayed him. She hadn't betrayed Emrys.

Mordred wanted vengeance. He had tried talking him out of it, but he would've had more luck talking to a wall. His plan to go and pretend to be on Morgana's side wouldn't work. Morgana wouldn't trust him.

"_She will see right through you! You can't do this, Mordred. Please" _

_Mordred shook his head, ignoring Merlin's pleas. "I have to" _

_Merlin's shoulders sagged. It was that look, that look that told him that no matter what he said or did, Mordred would still go on with his plan. The only thing left for him to do now was help him. _

"_Fine" he grumbled, collapsing into a chair and rubbing the bridge of his nose. "But we have to make her trust you" _

_Mordred sat as well, sighing. "How?" _

_Merlin knew how. He realized he had always known how. He looked at Mordred. "You have to tell her who I am" _

Mordred had done that and won Morgana's trust. Of course, as their luck went, his warning had come too late: Merlin's magic had already been taken by the time the druid managed to warn the warlock of Morgana's plan. But he told him to go and protect Arthur. He had to get his magic back, and it was too risky for Mordred to try and kill Morgana before that. If he was caught, she wouldn't hesitate to kill him. If all went according to plan, Merlin would get his magic back and would be there at Camlann to help Mordred kill Morgana. Plus, they would have the element of surprise: she would never expect Mordred to turn on her.

_Merlin blasted Saxons off their feet, turning the tides in their favor. He was happy to see that Arthur had continued fighting after the initial shock: he had worried that seeing Dragoon there would make him do something stupid. It seemed like Arthur had grown, more than Merlin had imagined. _

_Merlin looked around, finally spotting the two people he was looking for: Morgana and Mordred. He cursed and started off in their direction. The fight was nearly done anyway: Arthur could do without his help for a while. _

_But Mordred was losing. He saw Morgana's bright spell in slow motion, aiming for Mordred's chest. Mordred wouldn't be able to put the shield up in time. Merlin raised his staff and, without thinking, yelled: "__Gebeorgan__!". A blue shield materialized out of nowhere in front of Mordred, Morgana's spell exploding off of it. The sorceress turned her gaze in his direction, spitting his name. _

"_Emrys" She started raising her hand at him, but Mordred was faster, sending a spell that knocked the witch backwards, her back hitting the stone behind her with enough force to make her body stumble to the ground. Morgana coughed, struggling to get back up on her feet as Merlin stood still, watching Mordred approach her slowly. No matter how much this was his fight, it was Mordred's too, maybe even more than it was Merlin's. So he watched, calling his magic to the surface to crackle between his fingers at the ready, just in case. _

_Morgana looked up through the black mess of her hair, her green eyes softening for a fraction of a second, reminding Merlin of the woman she used to be. It sent a powerful pang of longing and sadness through his chest, making his delusional heart think again that maybe it wasn't too late, maybe she could still be saved. Then her eyes flickered to his for a moment and they changed instantly, Merlin almost cringing back at the intensity of the hatred he could see there. _

_She looked back to Mordred, the softness now up again like a smokescreen. He stole a glance at Mordred, his fingers itching to use his magic. He hoped his friend wouldn't fall for Morgana's act: for that was what it was, and act. _

"_Mordred, please…" she pleaded, but Mordred's face showed no emotion. There was the sound of metal somewhere behind them and Merlin whirled around, only to see Arthur standing there, sword in hand, watching the scene. He felt like cursing the king: what the hell was he doing here? The fight was done, he should go back to the tent, to safety. _

"_We're on the same side…" Morgana went on, and he had to turn back to her, lest something happened. He tightened his jaw. He would have a nice and long talk with that idiot of a king about __not __sneaking on powerful sorcerers in the middle of a fight. Honestly... and people said __he__ was mentally afflicted. _

_Mordred raised his hand, and Merlin could feel his magic gathering. Morgana looked desperate. "Please! You cannot trust Emrys! He'll betray you, like he betrayed me! Mordred, we're kin!" _

_Mordred shook his head. "I am not your kin" _

_Merlin felt it too late, at the same time that he saw the corners of Morgana's lips curving upwards. Suddenly her hand shot forward and she yelled a spell, but her magic wasn't directed at Mordred: it was flying straight towards Arthur's head. _

_He didn't know how it happened. It all happened too fast even for him to understand, even with time instinctively slowing down. He started moving as if in a dream, panic taking over as he tried getting in the way of the spell, moving in front of the king. And then there was a short yell and a crash as something was thrown backwards and skidded across the stone, raising dust as it slowed down in front of a bewildered and confused Arthur. _

_It was a body. It was Mordred. _

_Mordred got there first. It should have been him: it was his destiny, not Mordred's. And yet, here he was, staring at yet another one of the friends he couldn't save, watching helplessly as blood started soaking Mordred's chest, a red circle that grew larger with every second. _

_Anger rose with incomprehensible speed up Merlin's throat and he whirled around so fast the world turned to a blurry haze of lines and color. He didn't think, couldn't think, he only felt a powerful surge of hatred and bitterness and his magic burst out of his fingertips of its own: hitting Morgana straight in the chest, sending her flying so high and so far she hit the stone with a sickening crack. Merlin panted, staring at her for several seconds, only now realizing what he had done. He found he didn't care too much, didn't feel anything except a wave of sadness and bitterness washing over his heart. He didn't even care if she was alive or not. _

_Merlin just turned his back, throwing the staff to the ground as he dropped next to his fallen friend. Arthur was already there, and Merlin distantly saw him backing away at the sight of Emrys/Dragoon, but he couldn't care right now. Not when Mordred was dying. _

"_Mordred…" Merlin whispered. He should have never let him do this. He should have taken Morgana on himself, even if Mordred wanted him to be the one who killed her. He should have been the one who got in the way of the spell first. _

_Merlin felt something wet slide down his cheeks and heard Arthur come closer again. _

"_Merlin…" Mordred coughed and out of the corner of his eye, Merlin saw Arthur stop in his tracks. But he didn't care. Mordred grinned. "Take care of them, will you?" _

_He didn't get to see Merlin nod. _

"It was you, wasn't it?" Arthur suddenly asked, and though his voice was quiet Merlin flinched involuntarily, feeling he might as well have screamed the words.

He was tempted to ask the king what exactly he was referring to: was he the one who had put the itching dust in Gwaine's clothes? Was he the one who had accidentally washed Arthur's red cloak along with his favorite white shirt, turning said shirt pink in the process?

Or was he the one who had won the war?

Somehow, Merlin felt that was pushing it a bit too far. So he just stared for a few seconds, finally nodding with a sad smile. "Yes"

* * *

**Thank you all for reading and for your wonderful reviews. I'm very grateful for each and everyone of you:) I said it before and I'll say it again: even of only one person read this, it would be enough. The fact that you all like it means much more than I can say:) **

**So, next update will be earlier, two days instead of three, to make up for the delay:) **

**Until Monday^^ **


	5. Chapter 5

******DISCLAIMER: I don't own Merlin. I own the OC's and the story. **

**Hello again:) **

**As I promised, to make up for the delay in updating the last chapter, here it is: the new chapter is up one day early. **

**Enjoy! **

* * *

_Now_

* * *

She pressed her back against the wall as hard as she could, gripping the cloak so tightly she felt her nails dig into her skin through the fabric. Her breath was shallow, and too loud, so she tried controlling her breathing, her heart beating so hard against her chest she was surprised the guards didn't hear it. However, the two knights walked right past her, not sparing the shadows a second glance as they chatted amongst themselves. As their footsteps faded behind the corner, she finally released the breath she had been holding, slumping against the stone. This had been a close one.

Glancing right and left, she checked that the hood was still covering her face before she moved again, keeping close to the walls and shadows. She had been wandering around through the damp corridors of the lower part of the castle for two hours now, and still she hadn't found her sister. Sure, she had expected a labyrinth of halls and shady corridors, but this was a real maze. She felt like she'd been running around in circles all of this time. She didn't even know how she would find her way back to the caves if-_when_ she found Khaala. But she couldn't think of that now. For the time being, she just had to keep moving-that was all. _Keep moving_.

Hearing the clang of metal and voices drifting from the corridor on the left, she hurriedly ducked into the one on her right, pressing again against one of the walls. She felt like her heart would burst right through her chest anytime now, as the footsteps started getting closer. The knights were coming this way. She shut her eyes closed, holding her breath and hoping against hope they wouldn't see her. They didn't.

She opened her eyes again, her heartbeat slowing down once more. She felt exhausted: all of this tension every time she heard a voice or a footstep; the shadows dancing on the walls, cast by the flickering flames of the torches; the damp, cold air: they were keeping her on the edge and she didn't know how much more she could keep it up. She was running solely on adrenaline now.

When she stuck her head tentatively around the corner the guards had disappeared around, she felt a jolt of happiness run through her: the cells! Those were the cells! She had found them. The only thing left to do now was find the one that held Khaala captive…

Feeling immensely relieved by her discovery, she moved forwards with renewed energy. She managed to sneak past the guards easily, using a little bit of magic to create a diversion-but not too much. She had to preserve her energy in case she would need it later. So far, she had made it without using too much magic, and honestly she wanted to keep it that way, if she could help it.

Her footsteps made no sound on the stone floor as she slowly made her way through rows upon rows of cells, iron bars keeping the mostly empty contents locked. She hugged her green cloak-a gift from her sister-more tightly around herself. Her heart deflated a little with each empty prison cell, and soon the weight of doubt slithered its way into the pit of her stomach, the joy she had felt earlier gone. What if Khaala wasn't here? What if she was held somewhere else? What if she was already-

_No_. She shook her head. She couldn't think like that. Pushing forward with renewed determination, she tightened her jaw. Her sister was _not _dead.

"Hey, you there! What are you doing in here?"

The sky collapsed and her heart knotted in on itself into a tight ball, panic flaring through her being like she'd been struck by lightning. She froze, one single thought ringing loudly in her ears.

_No. _

The sound of a sword being unsheathed woke her out of her trance and she turned in time to see the guard walk towards her. It was all it took: she didn't even look back. She just ran, ignoring the "_STOP RIGHT THERE_"'s and "_HEY_"'s following her from behind.

No,no,no,no,no,no.

Her heart hammered against her chest and she felt her hood pull back against the current, but she ran anyway, not looking back at the several footsteps she could hear pursuing her. She couldn't think straight, and the corridors seemed even more twisted now.

She saw an opening ahead and ran through it, her lungs stinging. She glanced behind her and saw more knights than she could count crowding in the stone opening. It was completely dark in here, no torches lining the walls except for one single flame blazing in the distance, that suddenly flickered out of existence, leaving the way ahead completely swallowed by blackness.

She didn't have time to think of why that had happened, extending her arm and running faster, ignoring the ache in her legs. She glanced back for a second, only to see red capes lighted by the torches of the knights following her. She couldn't afford to get caught. Not now. Not yet. There had to be an opening, another corridor around here somewhere, or maybe a-

Sharp pain erupted in the arm she had kept stretched before her and a short cream escaped her lips. White dots clouded her vision, but she blinked them away, gritting her teeth. She clutched her left hand and struggled to her feet, feeling the stone wall she had ran into with trembling fingers.

She looked up, and realized she was starting to see the wall that blocked her path, and she could hear the knights had slowed to a walk behind her. A dead end.

Panic settled in and she started shaking uncontrollably, tears threatening to spill over her cheeks. She bit her lower lip, hard, feeling the metallic taste of blood. But it was enough to make her snap out of it. She would have to fight, she thought as she pulled her hood over her face with her good hand, cradling her injured-probably broken-arm close to her chest.

She turned around to face the guards. If she had to, she would fight. No matter what, she _would_ save her sister.

_One, two, three_…-she felt her stomach knot tightly. There were six of them, and probably more on their way. She looked around frantically, and noticed a small wooden door on the right wall, just behind the knights.

Hope sparkled inside her chest like a disease, unstoppable. Maybe if she managed to push them back enough to slip through that door…

"Surrender without a fight and you will receive a fair trial" said one of the knights as he drew nearer, pointing the tip of his sword at her. Panic flared up again and she instinctively pressed harder against the wall, shakily raising a hand in defense.

"S-stay back!" she stuttered, trying to sound threatening as she gathered and prepared her magic. The knight saw the gesture and hesitated.

She would have to put in enough magic to blast them all backwards and then make a run for the door. But she would have only one chance, so she needed to do it right. Another knight gave to approach her, and she straightened her back, the existence of an escape plan making her voice sound more confident. Now that she had something to focus all that panic into, she felt more determined.

"Stay back I said" she yelled, happy at the way her tone came out this time. She saw them hesitate again, but it wouldn't last much longer. She needed to be prepared.

One of the guards, a tall bloke with dark skin and a mop of brown hair on the top of his head, raised his hands, palms up, in a gesture of peace, walking towards her despite her previous warning.

"It's alright" he said slowly, in a tone one used when talking to a frightened child. "We won't hurt you if you just come with us"

She let him approach, waiting for the moment to release her magic, but hesitating. Did she really want to do this? What if she killed them?

She didn't have time to worry about that, her moment of hesitation being all he needed. It all happened to quickly for her to register it: she saw the man suddenly draw his sword as if in slow motion and start to swing his arm at her, so fast that she didn't have time to react. Her eyes closed instinctively and her body tensed in anticipation for a blow that never came.

Sounds of metal hitting stone reached her ears, the clanging of probably a sword against the floor echoing for a few seconds before everything fell into empty silence. She opened her eyes. And she gaped.

All of the six knights were sprawled onto the ground in front of her, apparently unconscious, their torches blazing on the floor next to them. She couldn't even think, only managing to stare at their forms in a sort of daze, slack-jawed. She looked up at the sound of footsteps and realized more guards were coming. A voice ringing clearly through her mind made her look towards the wooden door, that stood half-way opened, a figure visible in the shadows. '_This way_'

'_Come on_' the voice repeated when she didn't move. She looked down at the six unconscious guards, up to the incoming back-up and then to the door. She started to move, jumping over bodies and leaping through the door into the darkness.

The figure slammed the door shut, murmuring "_F__ordyttan_" behind her, and she turned in time to see a flare of golden eyes. She backed away as shouts started coming from behind the door, and the wood shook as something heavy banged against it repeatedly.

"_Leoht_" she heard him say again, and suddenly a torch blazed to life, the flickering flames revealing a pale face with tousled black hair and bright, radiant blue eyes. She unconsciously flinched back from the light, and saw him smile reassuringly at her.

"Shh, it's okay. I can help you" he whispered, glancing back towards the shaking door. "This way"

He started down the path, and she realized she was inside the caves again. He glanced back at her, extending his hand.

"Come on" he said softly, reassuringly. What could she do? She followed him as he led the way down the winding path and further into the caves beneath the castle.

* * *

Merlin held the torch in front of him, very aware of the presence of the druid behind him. He could feel her magic: she didn't trust him, not yet. She still kept it at the surface, ready to use it if necessary.

He didn't know why he'd done it. But he knew that he couldn't just leave things to happen. More than one knight would have been hurt. This way, at least he knew they were going to be alright. After all, he had only used a sleeping spell-he was sure she would've done more than that.

But truth be told, it wasn't just about the knights: it was about this girl, too. There was just something about her, something nagging him at the back of his brain. It was like he'd met her before, although he knew he hadn't. Her magic just felt so… familiar. Besides, he could always tell from someone's magic whether they were evil or not, and this girl's magic hadn't felt threatening, hadn't been like Morgana's dark aura. Just like he knew the druid girl they had imprisoned in their cells wasn't evil, he also knew this girl didn't mean any real harm. So he couldn't just let her there.

Merlin however wasn't sure what he was supposed to do now. He hadn't exactly thought that far ahead. How was he supposed to talk to her? And what if she was on Morgana's side? The fact that she had been running from half a dozen Camelot guards, from the direction of the dungeons, couldn't exactly mean that she was a friend of Camelot. And Merlin knew she wasn't a prisoner who had escaped: he knew all of their prisoners(not that there were that many) and she wasn't one of them. So what _had_ she been doing, breaking into Camelot's dungeons, as he supposed? Why would anyone want to break into the dungeons anyway? What for? Maybe she'd wanted to get to the vaults, and didn't know the way? The castle could be confusing, after all, especially the lower levels: it was all a maze of dark corridors, some of them disused or leading to the caves.

Then there was another problem: if she indeed was one of Morgana's followers, he couldn't exactly tell her who he was. Morgana had made sure each and every member of her army knew who Emrys was. They didn't know what he looked like, which he supposed he should be grateful for. But still-it meant he couldn't risk telling her his name. After all, how many servants by the name of Merlin were there in Camelot? Exactly: just one.

Merlin suppressed a groan. If he couldn't even risk introducing himself, how was he supposed to make her trust him? In any case, they were almost to another one of the entrances to the caves-the one he used to use to sneak into Kilgharrah's prison. If he didn't talk now, there would be no more time later.

"What's your name?" he asked quietly, trying to make his tone as casual and innocent as possible. He felt her magic flare in surprise and glanced back just in time to see her draw her hood further down her face. Great, he thought. He turned his gaze back onto the steep path ahead, the light of the flickering torch spilling gold around them in a circle, rising up the wall to their right. It didn't reach that far into the darkness though, so he couldn't see what lay ahead more than three meters, nor could he glimpse the bottom of the dark chasm to their left.

"Did you escape from the dungeons?" he asked, even though he knew the answer. But he supposed a mere servant couldn't know that. The girl remained silent, but at least her magic didn't flare up again. Merlin reckoned that was an improvement.

The only sounds that could be heard were their footsteps, echoing throughout the large caves, deep into the darkness. The torchlight fell onto a steep set of stair leading up, and Merlin stopped for a moment, waving the torch in front of them. He knew where they were: he could almost see where Kilgharrah's chains had been, where he had gone all those years ago and released him. They were almost there.

"Come on" he said, turning to her for a second. "These stairs lead to the exit" Then he started to climb, careful to hold the torch so the fire lit the steps behind him as well.

"How do you know the caves so well?"

Merlin almost jumped at the sound of her voice. He couldn't keep the smile from splitting his face. Good thing that she couldn't see him.

"I've lived in Camelot all my life" he answered, even though that wasn't exactly true. "And I work in the castle"

The girl remained silent for another couple of seconds, seeming to ponder what Merlin had said. He could almost feel her weighting his words and carefully choosing her next.

"Why did you help me?" she finally asked. It was Merlin's time to pause. Why _did_ he help her? Finally, he chose to answer her with his own question.

"Would you rather I hadn't?"

They reached the end of the stairs and Merlin suddenly found himself on the platform he used to come and talk to the Great Dragon. He stopped for a second, drawing a sharp breath in. This brought back memories. He shook his head, remembering what he was doing and stepping forward to allow her to climb up. She did. Merlin studied her for a moment, the flickering flames burrowing a strange shade of orange to her green cloak.

"I helped you because you looked like you needed a hand" he said, boring his eyes into the shadow of her face. He stared at her for another few seconds, then nodded towards the tunnel that would lead them up in the castle again.

"The exit is this way" he said, and started to move without further ado, not even looking back to see if she followed. He didn't need to, anyway. He feel hear her presence behind him.

As the flames lit the small tunnel, Merlin realized he hadn't been here in a long time. He remembered all of those times he had come running down to the dragon to ask him for advice, and all the cryptic answers he would get. It seemed like a lifetime ago. So many things had happened since then, so many things had changed. He couldn't even picture his life before Camelot anymore, a life without destiny and magic and Gaius, Arthur, the Round Table, Morgana, everything.

"That was a powerful spell you used back there" she suddenly said, making Merlin snap back into the present.

He had learned to mask his incredible amount of magic over time, so druids didn't immediately recognize him as Emrys anymore. And good thing too, for not all of them were on his side. He couldn't even begin to picture what a disaster it would be if any of Morgana's men could tell who he was from a glance. He had gotten so good at masking his magic that if he didn't use it, no one could even tell he had it in the first place.

But this girl had _seen_ him use it. Merlin mentally cursed. He had put half a dozen men to sleep without apparently breaking a sweat.

"My uncle is a sorcerer" he lied. Well, it wasn't exactly a lie. Gaius was his mother's brother, and he had magic. Merlin realized it wasn't a lie at all. "He taught me sorcery"

Merlin felt pretty good for not lying to her. He was actually telling her the truth. Gaius had taught him everything he knew, he had been the one to teach him to use his magic.

"Your uncle must be a gifted man" she drawled cryptically. Merlin could see light ahead. They were there.

"He is" he told her. Another truth.

They walked in silence again, and Merlin signaled for her to stop when they reached the entrance. The gates were locked, as well as protected by his magic. But the spell he had cast on them was a sort of magical shield that allowed only him to walk through, almost imperceptible to most people. Morgana would feel it, but he doubted this girl could-she would've said something. And he would have to use magic to open the lock anyway, so he could sneak a small amount of it to bend the shield a little and allow her to pass without her noticing it.

"One second" he said, and felt her shift behind him.

He put his hand on the lock and closed his eyes. He had to get this right: he couldn't allow her to feel that he was doing more than opening a simple lock.

"_Tospringe__" _he muttered slowly, clearly, feeling his magic seep through his fingertips and sending a small extra trickle into the shield. He could feel it bend, its surface rippling imperceptibly as the lock clicked open.

Merlin didn't glance back, even if he felt like doing it. But her magic hadn't changed, so he settled for believing she hadn't noticed. He pushed open the gates, tensing at the loud groaning of the rusted metal that echoed off the walls, stepping through them into the corridor and checking that the way was was small to no chance at all that there were any guards around here anyway: there hadn't been any guards since he'd released Kilgharrah. But there would be some guards up ahead.

"There are guards up ahead" he told her, gesturing towards the corridor. They couldn't exactly use his old trick with the dice, because Arthur had assigned smarter guards-especially here, so close to a possible way for their enemies to get into the castle. But he couldn't put the same sleeping spell on them either-it would make her suspicious. A normal magic user would already be tired.

"I'll try using the same spell as back there" he settled for saying, trying to make his voice sound tired. "If it doesn't work, he added, sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose, "I'll try distracting them or something while you make a run for it. Say I got lost. I work in the castle, so I'm not in any real danger"

Merlin led her through the dark corridor, remembering to extinguish the torch manually rather, than using magic, at the last moment. He was supposed to be tired, after all.

He tiptoed to the corner, peeking at the two guards. He knew them. One of them was Sir Gregory, and the other Merlin couldn't remember his name. But they would recognize him immediately-they had been in Camelot long enough.

Merlin raised his hand and pointed it at them, closing his eyes and preparing to use the spell. There was no other choice now-he couldn't risk "distracting" them, because they would surely say his name, and if she was one of Morgana's druids…

A hand on his shoulder made him snap his eyes open, and he turned to look at her with genuine surprise on his face.

"I'll do it" she whispered, and Merlin gaped at her for a second before nodding and stepping back. He had to struggle to suppress a smile as he whispered "Thanks".

He watched her as she raised her hand, muttering "_S__læpan_". Merlin leaned forward, in time to see Sir Gregory yawn and lean on the wall for support, then slowly slip down and close his eyes, his head lolling to one side.

Merlin felt a jolt run through him: he had put somewhere around here another spell, in case someone managed to get past the shield: it was an enchantment anchored on a crystal he'd placed in the walls, that alerted him if anyone used magic. He ignored it.

"Nicely done" he said, letting admiration seep into his voice. Because it had indeed been nicely done.

Merlin thought he could feel her smile under the hood as she allowed him to take the lead again. He took one glance at the fallen guards then nodded towards one of the corridors and started walking again. They soon reached the upper levels, and Merlin drew back at an arcade, turning to the druid.

"I can't sneak you out of the city tonight" he told her, although it was a lie. He could, of course, but he had to keep up the pretences. And besides, he wanted to know what she was doing here in the first place: he couldn't exactly let her go if she was here on Morgana's orders. "By now word would've spread of an intruder in the castle" he explained, "especially since I knocked all those guards off. The place will be crawling with patrols. But I can hide you until tomorrow, when it will be safer"

Merlin wanted to say more, but reckoned it was enough. He waited for her answer. She still hadn't let all of her magic down, but she seemed more relaxed in his presence now. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she nodded. Merlin couldn't help but flash her a smile.

"Keep close" he said and led the way.

They dodged the patrols easily enough-after all, Merlin had done it a thousand times. In no time at all they were at the physician's tower, and Merlin was standing in front of the door, praying that Gaius wasn't up. He had led her through the maze of castle corridors rather than taking the usual route, hoping to prevent her from seeing where they were going. He didn't want her to know he was the Court Physician's charge.

Merlin took a deep breath in and opened the door slowly.

* * *

She had offered to do the spell for him-after all, she owned him at least that. The thing was, he hadn't looked that tired-but then again, it had been dark and he seemed like the kind of person who would push forward no matter what.

She didn't understand this boy. He seemed to genuinely want to help her, and he did, but at the same time something seemed off about him, and she couldn't figure out what. Maybe she was being paranoid.

He opened the door and she followed him inside, but she couldn't see too much of the room she was in because of the darkness and because of the hood she still kept on. She glimpsed shelves and a table packed with scrolls, books and small bottles, but didn't have time to see more as they reached a couple of small steps and he opened another door.

She stepped in, looking around as he closed the door behind them. This room was very small, with a bed, a night table and a tiny wardrobe being the only items in the room.

A small window on one of the walls let the moonlight seep into the room, covering everything in a mix of shadows and silver. The young man who worked in the castle-according to his words, at least-walked forwards awkwardly, shifting form foot to foot in front of her. She could see him more clearly now: he was tall and lanky, dressed in a blue shirt that seemed pretty elegant for a servant and clean trousers, a dark jacket over the shirt and a red neckerchief around his neck. The jacket was elegant as well, but not that elegant that a servant wouldn't be able to afford it if he saved money for a while. A long while, grated, but it was still possible.

However, she remained suspicious. He looked at her with earnest, strikingly blue eyes that seemed to pierce right through her very soul.

"This is my room" he said, keeping his voice low. "My uncle's sleeping in the other room"

He shrugged off his jacket, placing it carefully into the wardrobe, and she got a glimpse of several shirts who looked more like a servant's attire.

"You can have the bed" he said as he turned, a blanket in his hands that he placed on the floor in front of the wardrobe. She did as he said, moving to the bed and sitting on it, not yet able to let her guard down. She hugged her cloak closer.

"You have magic" the words slipped past her lips, curiosity getting the better of her. He looked up from where he was bundling up a shirt to use as a pillow.

"Hm? Yes, I do. So do you"

"Yet you continue to live in Camelot" she raised her head a bit, careful to maintain the shadow over her face. He looked unsure for a second, seeming to choose his words carefully.

"Yes" he answered simply, somehow managing to bore his eyes right into hers, even though she knew he couldn't see them. "It's my home"

She remained silent after that, not knowing what to say to this answer. She supposed there was more than one sorcerer in Camelot. It couldn't be _him_. Morgana had made it clear enough to all of them who he pretended to be in court, but this boy: this nice young servant who had helped her escape couldn't, just _couldn't_ be him. She had sensed his magic, and despite his impressive spells, he didn't possess such a large amount of it. And she doubted someone as powerful as Emrys would be able to hide their magic so completely.

She lay back, pulling the blankets awkwardly around her. She didn't exactly have a choice: this servant was right: the place would be crawling with guards by now. She just had to wait till morning, slip away, free her sister and go. Easy enough. She was just using him.

"I didn't escape out of the dungeons" she told him before she could stop herself, remembering one of his first questions. Somehow, she had a feeling he already knew that.

"Then what were you doing there?"

She ignored him, turning on her side and pretending to sleep. She was just using him, she repeated to herself as she stared into the darkness, beginning her long wait for the dawn.

* * *

**Thank you so much for reading! **

**And thank you all for you reviews, again. This story would not be without you. So, tell me what you think? **

**Next update will be on: Thursday. **

**See you next time^^ **


	6. Chapter 6

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Merlin. I own the OC's and the story.**

**Enjoy! **

* * *

_Then_

* * *

Arthur's fingers grazed the hilt of his sword, which was still sheathed at his waist. He moved them away. Touched the metal hilt again. Moved them away.

Merlin was apparently trying to stay still, but it didn't seem to work out pretty well. He kept shifting, and Arthur could see the muscles in his arms move as he fidgeted with the hands he kept clasped behind his back.

Arthur had expected the answer. He had known the answer, had known it ever since Mordred's final words, ever since his servant's name had escaped his lips as he was talking to Dragoon-the sorcerer who had saved them all. _The sorcerer who had killed his father. _Arthur's fingers brushed against the hilt again, and he crossed his arms in front of his chest in a sudden movement, making Merlin flinch.

The silence stretched, and the king could feel it pressing down on him, slowly sucking all the air from the room until he was left struggling to breathe. It was funny, actually: there were so many thoughts whirling in his mind that he could not, for the life of him, focus on any one of them, coming up instead with a complete blank.

He realized that for all of these days that he had spent knowing it was the truth, there had always been a part of him that had doubted it: a part that had made actually believing it impossible. Now that he had gotten his confirmation, it was real. It was real and heavy, the realization hitting him over the head like a massive hangover.

Merlin was Emrys. Merlin was the sorcerer.

"A-Arthur?" Arthur snapped his eyes open, noticing his servant all tensed up, not fidgeting anymore, eying him maybe a little fearfully. Not him, he realized. Merlin's gaze wasn't fixed on Arthur's face, like before. It was fixed on the sword he held in his right hand. Arthur glanced at his white knuckles where he was gripping the hilt. When had he drawn his sword? He hadn't even noticed. He let out a shaky breath, forcing his brain to stop thinking, and let the blade fall into his left palm, on the flat side.

He studied the sword, the steel in his hand glinting, a streak of otherworldly silver and gold. He turned it around slowly, taking care not to cut himself: it was fine steel, perfectly forged, a golden band stretching on the center of the blade, the words "Take me up" and "Cast me away" staring at him in ornate scrip from each side. The words had always made him wonder. _The sword_ had always made him wonder: he always felt this pull towards the weapon, as though it was less of a weapon and more of an extension of him, as though it was _meant _for him. Merlin had showed him the way to the sword. Was all of that a lie as well? Arthur caught a glimpse of his blue eye in the shining metal and he suddenly lowered the sword, making Merlin flinch again.

He looked back towards his servant, feeling his fingers grip the hilt. The sorcerer looked up into his eyes for a second, and as those blue orbs connected with his he felt a surge of irrational blind rage run through him. And all of a sudden Merlin was backing into the wall, eyes wide as he gazed up at him not without fear, his chest rising and falling unevenly as he stared at the tip of his sword, which was touching his chest.

"Arthur?" Merlin asked in a small voice, and Arthur tightened his grip on the sword even more, if that was possible. He closed his eyes and his body started shaking as he struggled to contain all of that anger.

This was Merlin, he reminded himself. He was his friend.

He had lied to him. He was a sorcerer.

Using every ounce of will power that he possessed, Arthur drew the sword back and backed away, letting it fall to the floor through his suddenly numb fingers. He looked up at a scared Merlin, back still pushed against the wall. One whole week of arguing with himself, and he still wasn't anywhere near a conclusion.

And then it suddenly hit him: he had been on the point of killing his servant. Worse, he had been on the point of killing his _friend_. He brought his trembling fingers in front of his face and stared, not managing to believe what he was seeing.

This was ridiculous! He had to pull himself together. He was a king, for the love of all the Gods!

"Arthur" the voice drew him from the trance, and Arthur looked up to see Merlin had moved and was now staying in front of him. He picked up the sword and put one hand on Arthur's shoulder. The fear in his eyes was gone, replaced by worry.

"I'm sorry" Merlin whispered quietly. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you"

That was what it took: "_I'm sorry I didn't tell you_". Merlin wasn't sorry for what he had done, and Arthur wasn't even sure if he had done anything to be sorry for. Yes, he might have meddled with sorcery, and it might have been illegal, but it wasn't like Merlin was evil. If he were, he'd had every chance to kill him all of those years. And he was sorry, off all things, for not telling him. That told Arthur more than anything else ever could.

"I can't kill you" the words came out of his mouth before he could stop them. Merlin kept staring at him, but Arthur thought he could see something shift in his eyes. "But I can't trust you"

Arthur needed to get away from him. He moved back from his servant's hand.

"I don't even know you" he said, the words making his throat constrict. His first friend, and he didn't even know him. All of this time, he had been lied to. Living under the impression that they were equals: because the king had shared almost everything with his friend.

It seemed it was not, after all, an even deal. Suddenly, Arthur felt very tired. He turned his back on Merlin, numbly walking to his table and collapsing into one of the chairs. All he could feel as he watched Merlin walk and place the sword by his bedside, and then carefully make his way to the table only to shift hesitatingly in front of it, was empty. He felt like watching a stranger, someone he had only just met, yet had seen around all his life. So little time ago, he would've said he knew everything about this man: that he was his best friend, his advisor, an idiotic servant who went with his king to battle dragons five times his height when he didn't even have a sword. He would have mentioned how he sometimes spoke as if he was a wise man, and how he knew him better than anyone, maybe even himself. He would've felt pride and gratefulness.

Now, however, he knew nothing of this tall, lanky young man, who was dressed in a servant's clothes and appeared to be weak. He knew nothing of him: he didn't know how he thought, what he did with his free time, how his life was. What his motives were. But this stranger still knew everything about Arthur. Arthur's eyes widened the tiniest bit: he realized he had never known all of those things. He had never truly known what Merlin thought, what he did in his free time, why he constantly followed him into battle. He had never _asked_. Perhaps this was as much his mistake as Merlin's, not that he was ever going to admit that while blood still ran in his veins.

"Sit" he told him, and for maybe the first time, his servant obeyed. Arthur locked gazes with Merlin, but it seemed Merlin's stubbornness and impertinence had always been genuine and not a trick, because the servant held his gaze.

"Mordred knew about… _this_?" was the first question that slipped past his lips, the sting of jealousy ringing through his heart. Arthur pushed it down, wishing he could smother it with his bare hands. He wasn't supposed to be jealous.

Merlin grimaced, pain filling his eyes for a second before he nodded. "Yes"

Arthur nodded to himself. "When did he find out?"

This time, Merlin shifted uneasily, avoiding Arthur's gaze. That made the king narrow his own eyes. "What?" he asked, not sure he was going to like the answer.

"Nothing" Merlin replied way too quickly. The king gritted his teeth.

"If this is going to work, I need you to be honest with me for once in your life, because right now I am fighting not to banish you from the kingdom" Arthur hissed through gritted teeth, tightening his fists against the new wave of anger. The moment he said it, he realized it was true: this was no game. This man was a stranger to him, and while he certainly couldn't kill him, he was not yet sure he was willing to forgive him. Not sure he could or _should_, either.

Merlin seemed to grasp the change of tone, and his expression turned somber. He stopped shifting, placing his hands on the table in front of Arthur and nodding seriously.

* * *

Merlin's heart had pounded so hard against his ribcage it had hurt, and he was surprised it hadn't poked a hole through his chest and burst out. Arthur had looked insane at that moment, glaring through him with such rage he had thought the king would run him through.

But in the end, he hadn't. He had backed away and let the sword fall to the floor, and Merlin had swallowed hard and cringed at the clangs the blade made against the marble. He had considered leaving the king on his own for a while, but then he had looked up: Arthur looked broken. He was staring at his hands in horror, his whole body shaking and his skin pale. Merlin's mind had immediately pushed all other thoughts aside at the distressed image of his best friend. He had gone and put a hand on his shoulder.

And now he was sitting at the table, and he felt less terrified. He supposed this had to be even harder for Arthur. He didn't know how he did it: Merlin would've broken down by now.

He nodded at his king, feeling a sharp pain through his chest at the look he was receiving: Arthur was looking at him as though he didn't know him.

"Mordred has known ever since he was a child and we smuggled him out of here" he said. His nails dug into his skin as he struggled to keep still when Arthur's eyes widened and something seemed to break in those blue orbs, that grew even colder. He had to suppress a shudder.

"You mean to tell me" he hissed, "that all of this time…?" Merlin wished he had screamed at him, shouted and knocked over some vase, but this seething anger was much, much worse. Because the less Arthur showed, the more he felt, and now his tone was distant and controlled and _cold_. The tone he saved for enemies.

"…All these years you have been practicing sorcery right under my nose" It wasn't a question.

"No, it's not true" Merlin said, looking away.

"_How_" Arthur snapped, and Merlin looked back at him when the king's fist collided with the table. "_How is this not true?_ Did you or did you not practice a forbidden art all the years since I have known you? Were you not a sorcerer that time?" Merlin flinched at the word, a small sparkle of anger rising within him. He was _not _a sorcerer.

"I -" he tried, but Arthur silenced him with a hand. Merlin clamped his mouth closed, waiting for the king to recover. He usually didn't listen to orders, but Arthur seemed in quite the difficult struggle right now, so he reckoned it was best to let him have it his way. Arthur breathed in and out for a couple of seconds.

"Why did you start to practice magic?" he asked, and when he opened his eyes there was a lack of light, a defeated shade to their blue.

"I didn't have a choice" Merlin repeated. The king lay back, watching his fist curl and uncurl bitterly.

"Of course you had"

"I didn't" he insisted. "I was born like this"

Arthur's eyes instantly rose back up to his. "What?"

The prince seemed genuinely surprised. Merlin felt a pang of sadness rippling through him and he smiled. He gave a shrug and looked away, not able to meet Arthur's incredulous gaze any longer. The image of his mother flashed briefly before his eyes. He stared at a stain on the window of Arthur's chamber.

"My mother used to tell me stories of how I turned chairs over or heated the room, or made food float when I was little" he sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. How was he to explain the king all of it? Because Merlin got the dreadful impression that he was going to have to. "I only had a choice in how to use it"

"Why didn't you tell me?" Arthur suddenly blurted, and Merlin looked up to see his friend was as shocked at his interruption as he was. He didn't look so murderous anymore. He supposed that was an improvement, so he risked a joke.

"You would've chopped my head off" he smiled goofily, realizing that it wasn't a joke after all. Technically, Arthur would have been forced to chop Merlin's head off. Or fry it. Merlin shuddered at his own thoughts. "And then there's the fact that you would've ended up in this position"

"What position?" Merlin gave Arthur a pretty good imitation of the _Eyebrow_. "You are the king of Camelot" he reminded his friend, who looked about to say something, so he quickly went on, "And your father was king before you. Would it have been easy, having to choose between you father and me?"

For a moment, Arthur's eyes widened in disbelief and then amusement. Merlin studied his friend closely, his gaze never leaving the king's: his blond hair seemed dull in the shadow, ruffled by sleep and too little care, and his eyes had taken on a distant look, but the ice had melted off them a little.

And then Arthur's entire demeanor changed and for some reason the temperature seemed to drop a couple degrees. Merlin shivered involuntarily. What was Arthur thinking?

Merlin felt as though a couple of eons had passed instead of a couple of seconds, watching the king's fingers numbly clenching and unclenching as he thought, until finally he locked gazes with him again. There were so many emotions in there, had he wanted to, Merlin couldn't have read them all. All he knew, something which was plain as daylight, was that whatever he they were, they were strong.

"Merlin" he asked in a serious tone of voice. He didn't like that tone. "Did you kill my father?"

* * *

That was what had worried him? The fact that Arthur would have had to choose between him and Uther? He felt like laughing. Relief crashed over him at the realization that this was just like the Merlin he knew: his servant would really be as stupid as to worry more about that than his own life. Arthur fixed his gaze somewhere above Merlin's head. Where other sorcerers would have killed Uther and probably himself too, Merlin had protected them. Apparently.

Arthur froze, the world suddenly turning cold again, the noises growing distant. He could hear his heart beating faster, pounding in his ears. The old sorcerer had killed his father. The old sorcerer had won the war and saved them all. The old sorcerer was Merlin. Cold dread seeped up his spine, engulfing him whole as another shot of blind rage flashed before his eyes. This time, however, he managed to contain it.

Arthur let out a slow shivering breath. No, Merlin couldn't have killed his father. He couldn't. He just… just couldn't. Arthur realized that his reasons why Merlin couldn't kill Uther were not exactly strong. There had to be an explanation. He had to ask.

Arthur looked up at Merlin, at those brilliant blue eyes that he had thought to be so innocent.

"Did you kill my father?" he asked simply, quietly, his words weighting more that tons. For something that didn't even have a body, words often seemed to affect people like few real things could. Merlin flinched. A full, whole body flinch. The servant looked away, and Arthur though he could see his eyes glossing over, but he ignored it. He needed Merlin to answer to his question, he thought as he squeezed his fist, his nails digging into his skin. He needed Merlin to answer his question with a no.

"I didn't kill Uther" Merlin finally said, still not looking at him, and Arthur felt his heart beat again, relief like never before chasing the shadows in his soul away. He felt like there had been no air, and now finally he was able to breathe. He let his hand unclench. "But it was my fault"

Arthur looked up to see a Merlin look at him with so much grief and guilt, he felt his own stomach knot again. "What do you mean?"

Merlin closed his eyes for a brief second. When he opened them again, they looked older, much older. Much older than a young man's eyes should look.

"Morgana managed to put a cursed pendant on Uther, probably through Agravaine" Arhur felt a twinge of anger at the mention of his uncle's name, but it passed quickly. "I couldn't let Uther die-he was you father. So I used an aging spell to turn myself into Dragoon-that way you wouldn't recognize me. But I was in a hurry, and I was nervous.

I didn't notice the pendant, though I should have. I should have felt the curse. It was my fault. All the healing magic I did that night was reversed and amplified ten times. I as good as killed the king with my own hands"

Arthur stared at Merlin long after the servant had finished talking, silence stretching on and on and none of the two occupants of the room willing to break it. The room began to darken, dusk slowly sucking all of the light from the world.

He didn't usually remember everything everyone said. Most of it he forgot. But when someone said something that didn't make any sense, or something that intrigued him, Arthur remembered. "_Contained within this great kingdom is a rich variety of people, with a range of different beliefs_" was what Gaius had told him that day, after they'd rescued him. "_I am not the only one seeking to protect you. There are many more who believe in the world you are trying to create._"

It wasn't Merlin. Arthur couldn't feel any happier. It hadn't been Merlin.

"It wasn't your fault" he said quietly, and the look full of hope and wonder he received sealed his decision. He would trust his friend.

He sighed, suddenly exhausted, and stood up. Arthur walked to the window and turned his back on Merlin, looking at the already dark city stretching down in front of him-a sea of roofs and flickering points of light. He clasped his hands behind his back.

"I expect you to be on time tomorrow" he called. He could almost feel Merlin's smile as he said "Yes sire" He didn't turn back as he heard the chair scraping against the floor and he didn't turn as he heard Merlin's footsteps walking away, opening the doors and closing them behind him with a polite. "Good night".

He stood like that, in the dark, a while longer, then walked to his bed and collapsed in it, his head sinking into the fluffy pillow. Arthur closed his eyes.

"_One day you will learn, Arthur. One day you will understand… just __how much__ they've done for you._"

He finally understood what Gaius had meant. The only thing left to do now was learn.

* * *

**Okay, so what do you think? Again, thank you all for reading. I am very much indebted to all of you:) **

**Now, a different matter: I was thinking of changing the title of this story to "Of gold and destinies". So I will wait till tomorrow and then change it-I figured it would be nice to let you know first. What do you think? **

**Next update will be: Monday. **

**See you then^^ **


	7. Chapter 7

******DISCLAIMER: I don't own Merlin. I own the OC's and the story. **

**Hello there. Here you go, the new chapter. **

**Enjoy! **

* * *

_Now_

* * *

Few things are as calm and still as the blackness of sleep. It stretches and engulfs you in a safe sphere, and all of the world with its worries are left on the outside, their noises so muffled by invisible shields you can't even hear them. Sometimes you can see shapes and colors shifting in this dark void, a blackness that somehow isn't a lack of light, but a safe darkness.

And then, as morning comes, the shields crumble, and the real life really starts leaking inside, chasing the black away.

Merlin snapped his eyes open with a start. He had been hearing the distant sound of the alarm bells for a while now, but he had thought he'd been dreaming. He sighed and stood upright, blearily rubbing his eyes and trying to shake his brain into awareness. The alarm bells were ringing. Something bad must be going on, and he needed to be there to take care of it, whatever it was. But he was so tired-it must have been before dawn-and his back ached as though he'd slept...

Merlin stopped with his fingers locked in his hair, staring blankly at nothing for a second. _As though he'd slept on the floor._ He whirled around and his gaze immediately fell onto the empty bed, all of the memories from the night before rushing in. He jumped to his feet and cursed loudly. Merlin felt like kicking himself. For a moment, he looked around frantically, his mind going on a complete blank.

_The dungeons. _As soon as the thought formed he was out the door, slamming it open with so much force it banged on the wall, making Gaius gasp as he woke up with a start. But Merlin couldn't stop: he raced across the chambers, storming into the halls and leaping down the stair two at a time. He nearly tripped over his own feet as he emerged into the courtyard, such a hurry he was in, but he shrugged it and ran even faster across the stones as dawn was beginning to break.

He jumped up the stairs, rushing past guards and dodging early risers, rudely ignoring the "_Good morning_"s he received. There was no time for pleasantries.

He had suspected that the druid girl would try and sneak past him while he slept, and so he had had a plan: stay awake and follow her. But it seemed like all the stress and work of the day before-his experiments, the dinner with Sir Reginald, saving this girl from the guards-had decided to take their toll on him this night of all nights. He must have fallen asleep somewhere after midnight. He cursed his own stupidity.

Merlin hoped she was in the dungeons. It was the only possible explanation, wasn't it? She had admitted not to have broken _from_ the dungeons, so either she was looking for the vaults, or… or she was breaking _into_ Camelot's prison. Why would anyone break into the dungeons? Didn't people usually want to break _out_ of them? Or perhaps she was trying to help someone break out…

Merlin shook his head, slowing down and pressing himself against a wall as he tried to catch his breath. It didn't exactly matter right now why she was doing what she was doing, so much as the fact that she was doing it. He couldn't believe this had happened on his watch.

He heard the heavy footsteps of guards running down the corridor and pressed harder against the stone, holding his breath until they passed. There was no way he'd find her if the place was already crawling with guards. Merlin closed his eyes, making a decision. There _was _one way he could find her.

He had been close to her magic before, so he knew how it felt. And if she had used it recently-which he really thought she had, given the alarm bells and the rather difficult situation they were putting her in-he should be able to pinpoint the location where she'd done it. He just had to focus really hard and extend his awareness.

Merlin breathed in and out, in and out, concentrating on the beating of his heart, blood pumping in his veins, blocking out all the sounds from the world behind his closed eyelids. He focused on the magic that he called to the surface of his skin, feeling it crackle underneath it and tingle as it rippled with each breath he took. And then, ever so slowly, he felt himself become more aware of his surroundings, of the magic of the world around him: this technique was like thread-seeing with your eyes closed. He could feel the magic around him, even though he couldn't actually see the so-called "threads".

Merlin pushed his magic into the world bit by bit, probing, searching, touching whatever he found and waiting for that familiar, yet foreign feel of hers. He felt the magic of the girl they had imprisoned in their dungeon, stirring and curious-probably about the alarm bells. He pushed further, past her cell, past and past and past again. Until he stopped.

Merlin opened his eyes and shot forward, running toward her magic. He kept his link open to guide him, following the thread without even looking where he was going, only stopping to dodge the guards. This had gone better than he had expected: he had found not a trace of her magic, but her exact location at the moment. It seemed she wasn't that far. Before he knew it, his feet had already taken him there. Merlin stopped in front of a guest room, panting as he retreated his magic, careful to keep it covered at all times. The last thing he needed right now was this girl finding out he was Emrys. As if he didn't have enough problems.

He drew a final breath in and, before he had the chance to think too much on this, he pushed the door open and entered in a rush, closing it behind him. He felt her magic flare and almost lash at him as he pushed himself against the door. She shrieked, her hand outstretched in a defensive position toward him and the hood still covering her face.

"It's you" she gasped, slowly lowering her hand. She looked panicked. Merlin felt a surge of annoyance. She _should _look panicked. The warlock peeled himself from the door.

"What are you doing here?" she nearly yelled, a shrill sound, stepping away from him. Merlin's anger surged forward.

"What am _I_ doing here? What are _you_ doing here?" he hissed, leaping toward her and grabbing her arm. "Are you trying to get yourself caught? What were you_ thinking_?"

"I-" she started, then seemed to catch herself and pulled her arm out of his grasp with a jerk. "I don't have to explain myself to you. I was trying to get out of here"

Merlin stared at her blankly. "That's why you were breaking into the dungeons again instead of heading towards the gates?"

She was saved from answering by the heavy sounds of footsteps outside the door that made them both freeze in place. Merlin released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding when the footsteps didn't even halter before the guest room, just ran straight past and slowly faded out of earshot. He shook his head and turned his back to her, going to listen at the door for any other incoming guards.

"We need to get you out of here" he said, and turned to look at her disapprovingly. "Now there's no way we can do that until tonight. You've managed to alarm the guards again"

She didn't say anything, but she came to join him at the door. He caught a glimpse of dark hair beneath her cloak, a lock of wavy curls falling on her shoulders as she stiffly crossed her arms in front of her chest. Merlin realized she still didn't trust him. He supposed that was to be expected, though. He cracked the door open and stole a glance down the empty corridor, then closed it again as gently as he could, trying his best to ignore the soft groaning the old hinges made.

"Okay" Merlin faced her, his gaze trying to make something out of that shadow under her hood. He ran a hand through his hair nervously. "Now. There is only one way to get you out of here, and the soonest we can do that is tonight. I would have been able to help you during the day, but as you put the whole castle on guard _again_…" he trailed off, glaring at her. "You _do_ want to get out of Camelot, right?"

The girl shifted a little in a way that made Merlin's suspicions take another step toward becoming facts. There had been a reason for this druid to enter the city, and it seemed as if she had yet to accomplish whatever she had come here to accomplish.

"Yes" she finally answered, if a little shakily, but Merlin really needed to know what was going on. He couldn't risk her being an assassin-he seriously doubted that-and he couldn't afford to lose her again.

"Then why did you try to break into the dungeons?" The fact that she visibly froze was as good as a confession: she _had _indeed tried to break into the dungeons.

Merlin sighed loudly, leaning tiredly against the door. He hadn't noticed earlier in his rush to find her, but his back was throbbing with pain now, his feet hurt, and he was not only tired from not enough sleep, but hungry as well. "Look" he started, running another hand through his hair. "I can't help you if you don't let me" he waited for his words to sink, giving her a pointed look.

"I can get you safely out of the city tonight, but I get the feeling that you have different plans. So tell me: why do you keep going back to those dungeons? Because if I were you, I'd be trying to stay away from them"

When she said nothing, Merlin gritted his teeth, trying to contain his exasperation. "Are you trying to help someone escape or-"

Merlin froze, his eyes widening. _The other girl in the dungeons_. The druid girl that had been the leader of the decoy team in the attack two weeks ago. His instincts had never been wrong before, and right now, they were all screaming the same thing: this girl had tried to help the other one escape. And she was still trying.

He didn't know what gave it away: the strand of the same black hair, the familiarity of the magic, or maybe saying it aloud… she was trying to help someone escape. And besides a handful of mercenaries caught in a raid a few days ago, the dungeons were empty. The only other prisoner they had was the druid he was trying to save right now: a druid whose magic was awfully similar to this one's. Merlin had known there was something about her magic, something he'd seen before: he just hadn't been able to figure out what. But now it seemed so obvious he felt like laughing. He'd been so stupid.

The two must have been related, or something similar. Sometimes, if two magic users spent enough time near one another, their magic could become… not similar, but bearing traces of the other's, somehow. It seemed more than that here though, but he couldn't be sure. He just knew they _had_ a connection.

Merlin's mind was reeling, his thoughts racing at a hundred miles per second. He suddenly realized he had stopped mid sentence and tried to cover his slip-up with a cough. Then he became serious again.

"This is it, isn't it?" he asked, noting she was also pretty stiff. Another indication that he'd hit a nerve. "You're trying t break someone out"

The silence stretched for a long time, but finally she broke it with a tense "yes", her tone almost daring him to do something about it. Merlin sighed for maybe the hundredth time, shaking his head.

"Alright… This is going to be harder than I'd thought. It means we have to break into the dungeons first. I know a passage through the caves: we could enter from there and then-" Merlin suddenly slapped himself across the forehead. "What am I saying? We'll talk about this someplace else-someplace safe. First, let's get out of here" He looked at her, to see if she had followed. "What?"

"You're really going to help me?" she asked, and her tone made a wave of guilt wash over him. No, he wasn't exactly going to help her, at least not now. He would, eventually, but first he had to convince her friend in the dungeons that Morgana was using her. He couldn't let them go tonight: he wasn't sure what he would do. For now, all he knew was that he had to get her away from here, maybe back to his room. Put her to sleep and think this through carefully. But for that, he had to make her trust him.

"Yeah" he said quietly, trying to smother the guilt. He _was _helping her. Them. _Eventually_.

"Why?" she blurted.

_I'm not sure_, he wanted to say. But he couldn't say that, obviously.

"I guess I-" he started, but didn't know how to go on. They both froze again at the sound of another set of footsteps, and Merlin was suddenly reminded, as they by-passed the small unused guest room, that they were actually being searched by at least a third of Camelot's guard, if not half already.

"I'm just helping you, okay? I have magic too, so I know how…" he struggled for words, "how hard it is sometimes. And you don't seem the type to kill innocents out of vengeance, you're just trying to help someone important for you. And I can help. So why shouldn't I?"

Merlin felt like whooping when she gave a court nod.

"Alright then" he said. "You're going to have to pretend you're a servant in the castle. There's no way we can avoid them in plain daylight-they have the advantage of the sun and they'll be keeping an eye out for the shadows"

"Are sure it's going to work?" she asked, if a little stiff. Merlin nodded.

"If people see you with me, they'll just assume you're new. Or that they just haven't seen you until now. In any case, all I have to do is tell one servant you're a new addition to the staff and I'm showing you around, and by noon everyone will know there's a new servant in the castle, so there'll be no more questions" He grinned sheepishly and shrugged. "News travel fast around here"

"But-" he eyed her cautiously. "You're going to have to get rid of that cloak"

He might have told her to go and tell the king she was a druid sworn to Morgana, the way she reacted. She shrank back, pulling the cloak tighter around herself and shaking her head.

"I-I don't think that's a good idea" she whispered softly, and for the first time her voice was weak. Merlin didn't know what to think, but they were out of options and out of time.

"There is no other way"

He waited as she seemed to ponder the option of taking on the whole Camelot guard by herself and fighting her way out. Finally, she nodded. Merlin smiled at her reassuringly, and after another second in which she didn't seem to show any signs of taking the damn thing off, he decided he should say something.

"You need to take it off _now_" he stressed. She flinched again, but this time didn't protest any more. She just nodded weakly and untied the cloak, holding her head down as she shrugged it off.

Merlin took it. And then he froze. He _had _been right, but he hadn't realized how right he had been. They must have been sisters: the same black wavy hair, the same oval face, the same pale skin. But that wasn't why he froze.

She stood up straighter, looking him right in the eyes. She was beautiful, her right eye emerald green, a shade lighter than the other druid's. However, the whole left side of her face was covered in white vines, a patchwork of scarred white skin that slithered down her neck and beneath the collar of her brown dress-scars that could only be left by fire. Her other eye, her left one, was staring at him blankly through an almost white orb, with only the tiniest hint of the brilliant green it used to be. She was looking at him almost daringly, but obviously trying to pretend she did not care what he would think of her. Merlin moved his gaze away immediately, eying her clothes and trying to keep his eyes from staring at her white eye instead of her green one when he looked at her.

He cleared his throat. "Your clothes are good-you won't stand out…" he trailed off again, uneasily.

She smiled sadly, a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "But I will, won't I?" Merlin recognized bitter when he heard it. He sighed and reached out to take a couple of locks of black hair and place them over the left side of her face.

"No you won't" he said, and smiled reassuringly. "Not that it matters. You're new, you're going to stand out anyway-what we need is them not asking too many questions. You can be the shy servant if you like"

"That's not what I meant" she muttered, although she sounded a bit relieved. What for, Merlin couldn't exactly tell.

"I know" he said with a soft smile. He bit his lip as a lonely set of footsteps passed by their door, although he was beginning to get used to it. When they were gone, Merlin went and tossed the cloak down under the bed. "We have to hurry"

He rushed back and, without any further ado, he pressed his ear against the wood, listening intently for any other sounds. Once he was sure the hall was quiet as a grave, he cracked the door open and poked his head outside to check that the way was clear.

"Let's go" Merlin said, turning to beckon her to come. She looked unsure for a second, then straightened her back and stuck her chin in the air confidently. Merlin had to give her that: the girl was brave.

They started walking down the hall, trying to look inconspicuous. Merlin leaned in closer.

"You were supposed to be the shy new girl, remember?" he told her in a teasing tone, and she lowered her head, letting her hair fall over her face.

"Sorry"

Merlin could feel her nervousness increase as they glimpsed two guards entering the corridor and chatting as they came towards them. Her magic was struggling out of control. "It's going to be fine, you'll see" he whispered. "Keep calm"

Despite his words, as they passed them by Merlin felt his stomach knot. She moved behind him a little as he nodded at the guards, who eyed her with interest-but nothing else. They both let out relieved breaths when the guards didn't even turn to glance back at them.

"Here we go" Merlin told her, and he felt her press a little closer as they emerged into a more crowded area of the castle.

They made their way as casually as they could through the corridors already packed with rushing servants, now that the sun had risen. Merlin realized he was supposed to wake Arthur soon and groaned internally. "So how do you like Camelot?" he asked her loudly as George hurried past them, throwing the druid a suspicious look. "Oh, morning" he grinned at the stiff servant.

George nodded primly, but said nothing else as he passed them by. Merlin wondered whether to take her through the castle: it was safer than going through the courtyard. Maybe she won't see they were going to the physician's chambers. But then again, she would, eventually, anyway. So maybe it was better to take her somewhere else entirely? He could use one of the guest rooms, but he doubted they were safe enough. No, he had to get her to his room. He smiled at her. They were almost there anyway, and everything seemed to be going fine.

"We're almost there" he told her, smiling. "See? Piece of cake"

They took a left down the first empty hallway, and from there it was almost too easy to get to Gaius' chambers. And the old man wasn't even there-he was already doing his rounds. As they entered, she was so distressed she didn't even look anywhere near the plate that read "Court Physician", entering the chambers blindly. He smiled. They had made it.

She collapsed into a chair, closing her eyes as Merlin went to sit by her.

"Well, that was too easy" he said with a grin. "Are you hungry?" he asked, and when she lifted her face with a nod. It was kind of beautiful, actually: one eye green and one eye white, Merlin mused. And the scars weren't that bad.

"What?" she asked, and Merlin noticed the bitter note of her tone. He shook his head, grinning. "No, nothing. It's just-those scars make you look pretty tough"

She stared at him. And then she burst into laughter, and after a while he joined her, both of them laughing until Merlin felt moisture gathering in his eyes.

"Well, you're certainly the first to say that" she managed, after a full minute of hysterical peals of laughter. He grinned proudly at her.

"So" he stood and clasped his hands together loudly, "Let's see if I've got anything to eat around here"

They both turned at the sound of the door suddenly opening. Merlin's whole body tensed. Of course something_ had_ to go wrong. Gwaine's brown hair popped from behind the door. The knight's gaze fell on Merlin, and he grinned, showing his teeth.

"Morning, Merlin. Gaius isn't back yet, is he?" he asked, then seemed to notice there was someone else in the room. "Hey, I see you've got company…" the knight trailed off, no doubt staring at the druid's white and green eyes.

It took one look and he knew: he could see realization dawning in her eyes as they widened almost imperceptibly. She had recognized him.

And the suddenly she was on her feet, her hair curling around her face as the chair toppled over. She struck her hand out with lightning speed and her magic shot out. "_Astrice!_"

* * *

**So, what did you think? :) **

**Thank you for reading, and I hope the change of title has not caused too much confusion. It just-I don't know. I felt like it better suited the story. **

**Anyhow: the next chapter will come out this Friday. **

**Thank you again. **

**See you Friday^^ **


	8. Chapter 8

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Merlin. I own the OC's and the story.**

**Hi you guys:) I know I'm late updating, and I'm awfully sorry for it. I had some problems going on around here, and couldn't finish the chapter on time. **

**I apologize again, and hope you'll enjoy the chapter. **

**Enjoy! **

* * *

_Then_

* * *

Gwaine walked purposefully through the courtyard of Camelot's castle, heading towards the training grounds. The sun was blazing powerfully today, and the sky was a deep shade of perfect blue, the kind of blue that would normally wake a strong urge in him to lay back and doze off rather than train. But not today, Gwaine thought, gritting his teeth and picking up his pace as though to better prove his determination. A young servant, her long golden hair braided carefully across her shoulder, frowned and glanced back after the infamous Camelot knight as Gwaine by-passed her with barely a small nod of recognition and a grim face. Nope, nothing was going to distract him today, not even fair maidens such as Georgette: his path was clear and sure.

Gwaine had noticed. He was not sure how many others had, but _he _had. How could he not? It was so obvious, so clear. Ever since the battle at Camlann one week ago, and Mordred's death, the knight had noticed there was something going on between Merlin and Arthur.

At first, Gwaine hadn't been sure. He remembered Arthur coming back to the tent wearing a grim expression after the battle. Gwen had jumped into his arms, sobbing and relieved, but Arthur was stiff and unresponsive, as though they had lost and not won. Arthur had then announced that Mordred was dead, and Gwaine had thought that was why the king was upset, even though Mordred had betrayed them all. Because Mordred had still been their friend, and Arthur had cared for him, so the knight could emphasize.

However, after about an hour and out of nowhere, Merlin came striding into the tent like he was supposed to be there-which he was _not_. But out of them all, Arthur had not been surprised. He had worn the same untouchable, stone expression, and told his servant that Mordred was dead. "_I know_", Merlin had answered, and neither had said another word.

Gwaine had blamed it on the battle, and on the fact that Merlin had not joined Arthur as he always did-he supposed the king was still bitter about that. But surely he would get over it, or that was what Gwaine had thought. But the days had come and gone, and though he had been busy with all of the patching up and reorganization of the whole of Camelot, Gwaine had noticed that Merlin was never next to Arthur, as he was supposed to be. And he had yet to hear of the two of them talking to each other. People were starting to notice.

Georgette had been the one who had told him that Merlin was off-duty. Gwaine had been surprised and, to be honest, a bit suspicious, but he had let it be. He had tons of work to do and he supposed the king had decided it was time that Merlin got a vacation-which was indeed true. Merlin deserved a little bit of time to himself. But it wasn't that.

No matter if Merlin was on active duty as Arthur's servant or not, the two of them would have still been together all the time, or at least would have talked. But after a little careful studying, Gwaine had noticed they were _avoiding_ each other.

So he had gone to Merlin some two days ago. The idiot had smiled, a smile that had been more than 150% fake, and told him that "_We've just been busy, that's all. Nothing to worry about_" That's when he had been sure: something was awfully wrong indeed. And after that he decided to take the matter into his own hands, because it seemed as if the two inseparable idiots couldn't handle it. Besides, he owed it to Merlin to least try. But Gwaine had his own way of doing things and as such, in a very Gwaine-like fashion, he had gone and punched the king square in the jaw in front of the whole training ground, and told him work out whatever was wrong between him and Merlin. Frankly, the knight had expected Arthur to punch him back at best, or send him to spend the night in the dungeons at worst. But the king had let him walk away, staring after him slack-jawed along with the whole training ground. The same training ground he was walking towards right now.

Two days had passed since the incident, and Gwaine hadn't heard anything from either Merlin or Arthur, but word had reached his ears that Merlin was supposedly on duty again. So he guessed his point had been delivered, but he needed to make sure. One could never be too sure with these two: both were as idiot as a bunch of donkeys and twice as stubborn.

He trotted past knights chatting or clashing swords, heading toward the corner where Arthur liked to practice with his dummy when he was mad or worried. Sure enough, the king was there. He was punching the dummy, not even slashing at it with his sword: Excalibur lay discarded a couple of feet away, on the grass, shining in the sunlight. He watched the king for a few minutes as he punched away at the dummy, bits of straw flying into the air with each strike. Finally, swelling his chest as he crossed his arms, he made his presence known in his usual mocking tone.

"That the best you can do, princess?"

The king landed one final blow in the jaw of the unfortunate dummy, sending an explosion of straw flying into the air. Arthur turned, hands on his hips. He sighed when he saw who it was, leaning on the dummy and wiping his forehead, leaving a couple of locks stuck to the sweaty skin.

"Gwaine" he greeted, his tone seeming tired and resigned. Gwaine studied him for a second: Arthur looked exhausted, and not because of the sweat shining on his skin or his harsh breaths. No, he seemed tired mentally, not physically. But while the king still looked grim, the knight could tell that something had changed. Something's different, he thought. There was something there that had not been there all of the past week, and there was a twinge of anger missing as well.

Gwaine walked closer, mindlessly picking up Excalibur and playing with it, aware of Arthur watching him carefully. "Heard you got Merlin cleaning up after you again" he casually said, watching from the corner of his eye for Arthur's expression.

The king merely looked at him, not a single emotion betraying on his features as he held out his hand. Gwaine flipped Excalibur over, offering Arthur the hilt. The king took it and sheathed it.

"Yes, I did. What of it?"

The knight narrowed his eyes. He wasn't sure what he was looking for, but whether there was something to be found or not, it seemed as if the king was ready to guard it well.

"Nothing, I guess"

They stared at one another for another long moment, and finally Arthur let his mask drop a little. It looked like the king was debating whether or not to say something. Gwaine waited, but when Arthur said nothing, he grinned and started to walk away.

"Well, I gotta go. You know-things to do, people to see. Nice talking to you"

"Wait" Gwaine turned, dropping his smile for a more serious expression. He waited. Arthur seemed to be struggling again with something, and it would have made Gwaine laugh if not for how serious the situation was.

Finally, after long moments in which he thought Arthur would change his mind and say nothing, the king finally spoke up.

"Thank you"

Gwaine would have laughed and made a joke, or a smart comment. On any other occasion, he would have taken advantage of this amazing opportunity. But not today.

No, today he just gave Arthur a nod and walked away, leaving him to his training. He had his own training to complete, and an apology to make to Georgette. And all had to be done until evening, when he would complete the second part of his operation: Merlin.

* * *

He had made sure that Gaius was away on his night rounds when he knocked on the door to the physician's chambers. However, it seemed like his flawless plan had not been so flawless after all, for when he cracked the door open he found the room to be empty. Gwaine cursed, and started off in the direction of the stables. There were only so many places Merlin could be if he was not home at this time, and fortunately Gwaine knew them all. He comforted himself with that thought. He would just have to check them all.

Gwaine checked the stables first, but there was no one there. Then he checked the kitchens, the throne room, and the training grounds, but no one seemed to have seen Merlin for some time. He even checked the battlements. He was almost afraid he'd missed his chance when he finally spotted Merlin's mop of dark hair in the armory.

The servant was sitting cross-legged on the floor, polishing Arthur's breastplate with circular, mechanical movements. He didn't seem to notice him, too engrossed in his task. Gwaine approached quietly, then promptly plopped down next to him. He couldn't help but give a laugh when Merlin jumped, startled.

"Gwaine" he gasped, then broke into a grin. "Are you trying to give me a heart attack?"

Gwaine grinned back. "Me? Nah. If I did that, who would drag me back to my house when I'm drunk?"

Merlin chuckled and got back to rubbing the piece of cloth against the gleaming metal of the breast plate. The knight couldn't help but notice it was already shining.

"What are you doing?"

"Polishing the prat's armor" Merlin offered with a smile so broad it hurt Gwaine's eyes. He felt a twinge of annoyance rise up in his chest.

"Don't do that" he hissed, and Merlin dropped the smile, turning his gaze back down on the plate. "Sorry" he muttered.

Gwaine sighed and leaned back against the wall. "I'll just get this out okay? You know I'm no good tip-toeing around things"

"Yeah" Merlin said, and gave a laugh that seemed just a tiny bit more genuine. "I know. I heard you punched Arthur in the face two days ago"

Gwaine bared his teeth in a grin. "You heard that, eh? Left him speechless, I did. You should've seen his face" Gwaine gawked at Merlin in a cheap, exaggerated imitation of Arthur's slack-jawed expression from that day. It worked, for Merlin started laughing harder and harder, until Gwaine followed and they both burst into peals of laughter.

"That's better" Gwaine said and punched Merlin in the arm.

The servant glared at him. "Hey!" Merlin complained, rubbing his arm. "I'll never understand knights. What part of punching someone is supposed to make them feel any better?"

Gwaine gave a laugh, and it turned into another peal of raucous laughter as he watched Merlin trying to keep a straight face.

"No" he said, his tone turning serious again. "Really, are you alright?"

He studied Merlin, who gazed up at nothing in particular before turning a pair of resigned eyes on him. He looked just like Arthur in that moment: a bit sad and a bit resigned. Gwaine supposed that was better that angry and murderous.

"Yeah" Merlin finally muttered, then shook his head. "It's complicated, Gwaine. I can't tell you anything now, but it's getting better" he looked up at him again. "You just have to trust me on this one. I promise I'll tell you all of it, but for now… things are moving slowly"

Gwaine considered this for a second, before making a decision and patting him on the shoulder. "At least they're moving. Right?"

Gwaine didn't pretend to know what was going on, and he couldn't pretend not to feel the tiniest bit offended that he wasn't in on it. But Merlin's expression when he realized Gwaine was not going to pry or judge, and that he was going to trust him, made it up for it.

"Right" Merlin grinned.

Gwaine stood up with a groan. "Well, I'll leave you to your polishing. I've got a date tonight"

Merlin grinned. "With a girl or a tankard of mead?"

The knight grabbed a cloth off the nearest table and threw it at Merlin's head.

"Thanks" Merlin told him, grinning. "For punching Arthur" he added at his raised eyebrow. Gwaine's grin was genuine. "Any time"

As he headed toward the Rising Sun, smiling at the ladies that passed him by, Gwaine resigned himself to a long wait. If Merlin said he could handle it, then he would trust him. But that didn't mean he wouldn't do anything now and then, like punch certain princesses when their egos got too big. But he trusted Merlin would keep his word and tell him what was going on one day. After all, it was what friends did: trust each other.

* * *

**So what do you think? **

**I know it is shorter than the last one, but yeah:D Thank you for reading and sorry again for making you wait:D **

**Unfortunately, I'll be away all of next week and won't be able to update. I reckon that, as I return on Saturday, I'll be able to update around Monday or Tuesday, but I make no promises. **

**Until then... yeah. I'll miss you guys this week. **

**Have fun:D **

**See you in a week^^ **


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